Bound
by AcidxQuill
Summary: Hatred is high, love is a danger, and favors are turning to debts. When Hermione saves Draco from a fate he'd have done anything to obtain, the struggle of morality arises. But the question is: can they be bound without falling for eachother? *COMPLETE*
1. The Darkness

Bound  
  
By: Angel Of Music  
  
Spoilers: Books 1-4  
  
Chapter One: The Darkness  
  
I have never been beautiful. Never free, never perfect. I strive for innocence and with it, guilt reigns. I have been deceived, conquered, dominated. I've always been alone. Solitude never seems to bond with friendship, but for me it somehow has.   
  
I've never believed in luck. Sure, things come along right some days, but- I don't know. I've never thought luck could be real. Instinct.   
  
Am I lucky for finding what I did? Have I found a miracle? Immorality. I am alone again.  
  
***  
  
She had always been defined as a "funny" girl, that Hermione Granger. When she passed strangers in the corridors, they'd sometimes grin and stifle laughter. Some would stare awkwardly until she was gone from view. Some would blatantly point at her intellectual demeanor. She'd grown quite used to the strange looks and behaviors, of course. It was perfectly normal. That is to say, if she were like the- others,- she'd think of a person such as herself as humorous too. Ragged, sandy hair that never looked as if brushed, large armfuls of highly difficult books, blank brown eyes; it was no wonder people sniggered as she passed. Hermione was sparsely considered attractive: her face did not hold a reflection of what she displayed inside. She was warm-hearted, friendly, and good-intentioned, the three very manifest qualities of a Gryffindor. But little did she know that because of this cordial personality, her life was about to change.  
  
She was a gangly sixteen-year-old when she realized who she really was. And the most unexpected of people had helped her bring out her obscure self. So I shall begin where all stories begin: Once upon a time, there was a girl...  
  
Hermione Granger paced deliriously down the second floor corridor that led to the library in Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. Early to her studies again, and she was still in a rush. Papers to finish, Arithmancy homework to complete- it was a very busy day. She arrived in the hushed study, and within moments, found herself entwined in an odd book that she was sure she'd never read. *Strange,* She thought, asphyxiating a look of wonder. *I was sure I'd read every book in the 'Dark Arts Defense' section.* She shrugged it off and unwillingly threw the book aside, deciding to check it out with the librarian, Madame Pince, when she completed her studies. She was happy that she was alone for once, something that one would never believe could be true, but obtaining a break from her friends was a relief. They, though she cared about Harry and Ron very much, were sure to distract her with notions that copying homework from her would help them learn.   
  
"Rubbish." She mumbled, a grin itching at her lips. At once, she opened her Arithmancy book and began her homework. Though Hermione was scholarly, she was ridden with guilt when she glanced up at the clock floating without support above the arched library doorway, and noted that she'd been studying for two hours. "7:15." She mumbled, immediately shutting the book she'd been reading. She was supposed to be in the common room by 7:00 to celebrate the winning of Harry's first quidditch match. She placed her fingers over her slightly ajar lips in a curt yawn, then went to check out a stack of books with Madame Pince.   
  
***   
  
"You missed a great 20 minutes, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his freckled arms into the air. "Honestly, where were you?"  
  
"Down in the library." She exclaimed with a bow of her head. "Research for the Transfiguration project. You should've come-"  
  
"Nonsense, Hermione!" Harry retorted, frowning. "It's not due until the end of Christmas break."  
  
"Yeah," Agreed Ron, his citrus hair bouncing in an energetic nod. "We've been celebrating, and stuff. You know, you should've been there when we got the pastries from the kitchen-"  
  
"Ron," Hermione began doubtfully. But both Harry and Ron could see that she had a small grin formulating on her face.   
  
"C'mon and have some pumpkin juice with us." The rest of the night was very enjoyable, and though it did consist of breaking a few house rules, Hermione had fun nonetheless.   
  
At 11:00 that evening, she climbed the steps to her dorm slowly. It had been a wonderful evening, she concluded. But something was itching at her brain. Ah, yes! Her project for professor McGonagall! She hadn't finished it yet, and though she still had more than a month to do it, she was worried. So, she turned straight around and stumbled back down the staircase. "Harry!" She whispered, penetrating the silence with the quality of her whisper.   
  
"Yeah?" He answered, feeling for her. The room was so dark that their vision was blurred.  
  
"Over here," She responded, beckoning him with her hand.  
  
"What is it, Hermione?"  
  
"I was...I was wondering if I could borrow your invisibility cloak? For the project." Harry, understanding how studious his friend was, nodded and told her to stay put. He returned but moments later with it in his trembling hands. "Thanks Harry." She said, smiling. "I won't lose it, or anything."  
  
"I trust you." He promised. He then went back up to his dorm without another word. Hermione, who was determined to finish her project, slid it on and quietly slipped out of the dorm.  
  
She came along with little troubles along the way, which was a relief. When she found herself in the library again, she was happy to see that even though she was, well, quite frankly breaking rules, she had the whole library to explore. But remembering the warning Harry had given her, she dared not to go to the restricted section. She pulled out a book entitled "Transmogrifying for Transmogrifiers," and flipped through the pages.   
  
"This'll be perfect." She whispered, glancing quickly at the detailed information that the book had in it. After she had gotten out her parchment and quill, a scratching noise in the corner of the library brought her to her senses. Alarmed, she stood to investigate. "Could be one of the ghosts," She began, trying to calm herself. After a moment, the scratching ceased. Hermione paused in mid-step to see if she was missing something. After a moment, she swiveled around again to go and work on the project, when the scratching commenced once more.   
  
"Whose...Whose there?" She whispered softly. The scratching abruptly halted. Frightened now, but indescribably curious, she took another step further and furtively listened for some sign of the noise-maker. The scratching began again, now quite obviously coming from the invisibility section. Hermione quietly wound her way around the bookshelves, peering through slots in the books to see if she could get a closer look. And then she spotted it- Malfoy. He was tapping his foot quickly, emitting the scratching sound. *Perfect,* Hermione thought, wondering why he was there. *Just what I need.*   
  
For the pleasure and sheer thought of getting Malfoy on something, she stayed dormant to watch him. He sat upon the floor after a moment, and drew something out from the inside of his cloak. It hit a dim light fixture and shone softly, revealing itself. A dagger. It was quite attractive and elegant, with rubies upon the handle and the figure of a serpant welded into the smooth pewter. Draco pulled it backward, then swung it down. It was just about to tear the skin upon his shoulder when Hermione jumped out.   
  
"Stop!" She demanded, grabbing the dagger from him. Draco hadn't even known what hit him. "What were you trying to do!?" She whispered harshly, waving the weapon at him. Draco shook his head and swiped for it.  
  
"Give that back, Granger, you don't want to put an eye out."  
  
"I would first like to know what you were doing." He glared at her, then stood.  
  
"You wouldn't understand. It's too complicated for a filthy mudblood such as yourself. Just hand me the dagger, now."   
  
"No. You were trying to kill yourself back there, weren't you?"  
  
"And what's it to you? Would you have cared what I did? It's none of your business."  
  
"It's all of my business, Malfoy. I demand to know." Draco stared at her and motioned for her to give him back the knife. She refused and pocketed it. "There." She said, satisfied. "Unless you want to fish it out, you can't have it." He gave her a scornful gaze and then collected his robes in his hands.  
  
"Why would you want to save my life, Granger? Scared they'd accuse you? Too much of a motive, if you ask me."  
  
"What I don't understand, Malfoy, is why you'd do such a thing. Dumbledore might be thrown out if you'd even-"  
  
"You think by no you'd be witty enough, Granger, to see that I could care a dung beetle less what happens to Dumbledore. He's a no good man who doesn't appreciate a pure blood when he sees one."  
  
"He appreciates plenty a pure blood." Hermione corrected, frowning. "Your just jealous because you're not one of them."  
  
"How dare you say such a thing to me!" He barked, flinging his arms into the air. "I could gain respect from that piteous, muggle loving man if I wished. But why would I want to do that, Granger?"  
  
"I'm sure you wouldn't." She retorted curtly, detesting the words that Draco was throwing at her.  
  
"Well, I'm sure that I would like my dagger back. Now hand it over."   
  
"I may hate you, Malfoy, but I cannot let you kill yourself." She exclaimed matter-of-factly, as if not talking about such a morbid issue as death. "You don't want to die." She began slowly, trying to remember why she was saying this to him. "There's a lot to live for, if you can believe it. Like books, and friends, and fun. I don't know what your definition of fun is, but... What I mean to say is, even if you are jeering at me, it pleases you doesn't it? Well, there you have it." Hermione recalled that Halloween evening in her first year that she had contemplated killing herself in her agony. It had been pointed out to her that she had had no friends. It was true at the time, but then Harry and Ron had come along and changed that. Now she had so much to live for.  
  
Draco snorted. "You are a filthy little no blood, and I shall never take advice from you." Hermione shook her head and retorted,  
  
"Maybe not, but I shall keep giving advice in blind thought that you will someday understand that I'm not all bad." Malfoy stood staring, then began to laugh.  
  
"Not all bad? You are a dirty, nasty, sickening, disgusting, putrid mudblood, and that basically qualifies as all bad." Hermione buried her head in her hands.  
  
"I should have know this would be worthless." She began. "I was stupid to think that I could convince you otherwise." Draco spat and grabbed for her pocket, but Hermione backed away on her foot.  
  
"Get off." She defended weakly. She then turned swiftly around and strode away. But before she reached the door, she heard Draco softly say,  
  
"If you tell anyone about this, Granger, I'll personally see to it that I wring your neck."   
  
* * *  
  
She longed to tell Harry and Ron, but there was something that told her not to. At first she thought it was in fear, but later she realized otherwise. She was not afraid of Malfoy. He couldn't hurt her, and even if he tried, she'd be able to defend herself. There was something that held her back, though she could not figure for the life of her what it was. She held to the word that she had never given, and it horrified her that she was doing Malfoy a favor. She despised his very presence, and his request had bound her to her better judgment. It would have probably been a good idea to inform professor Dumbledore of Draco's strange behavior. She wanted to do the best of things for everyone, yet it scared her that she was keeping this important word from being spread.  
  
It wasn't that she felt bad for Malfoy, or anything of the sort. It was simply that she was stuck to her honesty like a vat of molasses, and therefore thought it best to tell no one what she saw. For she had seen something very strange indeed, and it haunted her dreams each night she slept. *What would have happened if I wasn't there?* He would have died. DIED. Hermione tried to imagine life without Malfoy. It would be glorious and free, knowing that an insult would never be heaved at her again, but somehow oddly morbid. Scary, even. If he had been dead.   
  
Hermione groaned and rolled over in bed. She awoke, sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes. What time was it? She glanced over at the clock upon the wall and sighed when she noted that she had 3 hours left until she was expected at breakfast. With a quick, sideward glance, she arose and grabbed the book she had previously checked out, and made her way toward the common room.  
  
The fire, which seemed to never die, crackled happily as she entered as if welcoming her. Tightening her robes around her body, she sat upon a massive arm chair and cuddled up with her book.   
  
CHAPTER ONE, She read carefully, inspecting the intricate border around the pages.   
  
DUEL AND DEBT. Hermione continued to read thoughtfully, her eyes fixated on the words before her. She was just about to close the book and head back upstairs, when a phrase caught her eye. "It is a commonly known fact that in the wizarding world, when one wizard or witch saves another's life, they are forever in debt to him or her. They must, no matter what, before they die, pay them back for the deed that they have done." Hermione's fingers fell upon her parted lips, and she emitted an inaudible gasp as her book fell to the floor in a penetrating clatter.   
  
* * * 


	2. The Fate of Heredity

Bound  
By: Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Two: The Fate of Heredity  
  
Damned mudblood Granger. Always meddling in his affairs. She had destroyed his plans. Demolished his hopes. Killed his only escape from exile. Saved his life. Draco ran a hand through his flawless hair and grunted. Only a true no-blood would have such nerve. Oh, how her detested her. The very essence that was her. Her nasty, straggled hair, her strange, darting eyes, the way she moved and the way she talked; God! It was like having an itch that one just cannot scratch! He shook his head and wrapped his cloak tightly around his torso. It was always so algid in the castle near dawn. Draco sighed softly and cocked his head toward a window where a small portion of light was pooling through unto the opposing wall. He leaned his arm against the ray, trying deeply to digest it's warmth, and shut his eyes.  
  
*I am supposed to meet him. This coming evening. I can't take it. I can't take seeing that face...* He dwindled in his mind's thought for a brief moment. Then, with a blinding flash of the cruel face that he dreaded retaining, he snapped his eyelids open again, and flung himself off of the wall. He stared out the window shakily, trying desperately to block the image from entering his thoughts again. The sun crept hastily over the trees that overpowered Hogwart's grounds, as if peering from a faultered dream. Draco gazed softly at it for a succulent minute, then with a swish of his cloak, departed.  
***  
  
He could not sleep. He kept shifting back and forth, trying to adjust his comfort. Attempting to block the loud, gasping snores coming from the bed beside him, he shut the curtains to the four-poster bed that was Vincent Crabbe's. He exhaled tiredly, then sat upon his own mattress. Leaning furtively over toward his night stand, he picked up from it a small, dragon-hide folder. It was simple but attractive, from the brass buttons that held it shut to the intricate stitching. Draco snapped open the buttons carefully, praying that the loud clicks would not awake any of his roomates. As it opened, he hesitated, then shoved his hand into its potent pocket. His fingers clasped upon the only item in the folder; a letter. He pulled it out slowly and balanced it on his fingertips for a moment before opening it. As he did so, he fixed his eyes on the writing:  
  
Draco,  
You refuse to comply with Lord Voldemort? Direct orders, nonetheless! Boy, you've worked yourself into quite a mess. QUITE a mess. I have owled you five times with that request. Voldemort wants you to join us. You know that he wants another Malfoy. A descendant. An assistant to my talent, if you will. Now, Draco, since you have refused this- generous offer so many a time, I have arranged to meet with you at 7:00 on the evening of December the Third. You will meet me in the highest astronomy tower. I don't care of your means of getting there, just do it. If you do not, boy, I can assure you that there will be more of a surprise in store than another letter...  
-Lucius   
  
Draco sighed as he shoved the letter hastily back into it's pouch. Join Voldemort. It had always been his dream. His reason for cruelty. He had always wanted to be like his father. Like the man he for so long wish to resemble. But times changed; people changed. Lord Voldemort was growing stronger and obtaining an even more vast army of men. If Draco joined- if he agreed to be a part of it all- his life as he knew it would be thrown away.   
  
He couldn't tell his father this, of course. He'd be subjected to torture and verbal abuse. If he even coughed the word, 'no,' he'd be affiliated with the most unpleasant of results: his father. He feared him, admired him, loathed him. He was powerless to the man. And Draco did not like being powerless. And now he had Granger to thank for the self-pity and pain he'd put himself through. If he had killed himself; if he had made a quick, clean swipe, he'd have made things so much easier. Well, for him atleast. His father would be reprimanded, of course. Made a fool out of. Draco cackled at the thought.  
  
But Hermione Granger kept returning to his mind. She was such an insolent fool; she had absolutely no care for others. Why couldn't she have just minded her own business? If she hated him so deeply, why did she save him? There were many question dancing throughout Draco's mind. He wanted her dead. He should've just done it right there in the library, then gone for himself. Then he would've had his way. He inhaled with a stifled breath and then stood. Flattening his robes, he placed the pouch back on the bedside table and softly opened the door that led to the common room. He was careful to be hushed, in the event of someone waking, as he stepped quietly down the churlish staircase that wound thoughtlessly down into a rocky, dank room. As he approached the dim firelight, he cast his eyes toward an emerald armchair thrown lazily upon the intricate serpant rug. He went to sit upon it, but the problem was, someone was already curled in it.  
  
"Blaise!" Draco whispered fervently, checking to see if anyone else accompained her. She sat bolt upright as if she had not seen Draco there before.  
  
"Whuddya want, Malfoy?" She asked curiosly, rubbing her eyes. "You startled me." She smiled and threw her long, auburn hair over her shoulder.   
  
"I didn't know anyone was in here."  
  
"Damn right. Likewise." Draco shook his head and smirked.   
  
"Can I-" He motioned toward an identical armchair that sat near to Blaise's. She nodded silently as he pulled it closer to hers. After a brief pause, her sat upon it and shut his eyes. He hadn't told anyone about his father, and he was aching to confess. His mind swam with things that he could say, but he found no words. He was tacit, and he did not like the uncomfortable moments of silence that they were sharing. Blaise apparently did not care, for she went back to her ball-like sitting position and placed her head delicately against one of the arms.   
  
"Hows your father?" She asked after a while. Draco opened his eyes and stared thoughfully at her. It was as if she could read his mind.  
  
"I don't know. Don't care really." He muttered, wondering if she had seen him leave the common room earlier to go to the library.  
  
"Aw, Draco, I thought you looked up to him-"  
  
"I did, Blaise. At one time I did." He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "But hes become scum. Unruly and sickening. I hate him more than I could ever think possible."  
  
"Oh, c'mon, Malfoy. After all he's done for you? Brought you up, fed you, clothed you, bought you anything. Treated you like royalty. You owe him your consent, you know." Draco nodded sparsely and exhaled. "Besides," Blaise continued. "What can possibly be so bad about him?"  
  
"I- I don't know." Draco admitted, trying to untangle the words that Blaise had just thrown at him. She was right, afterall. He did owe his father his presence in the cult of Death Eaters. "I just hope you know what you're talking about."  
  
"Oh, I do. I do." She grinned and snuggled up comfortably against the armchair again, now displaying that she wished to get some sleep. "G'night, Malfoy."  
  
"Night." He muttered, throwing his robes over him and heading back up to the dormatory.  
***   
  
The cold of the night air pressed tauntingly against Draco's cheeks, painting them a deep rose. He sniffed, and cocked his head for the slightest trace of his father. 6:55. Dinner had just been adjourned, and instead of the usual turn he made to get to his common room, he had swerved and cautiously found his way to the top of the highest astronmy tower. His legs ached from the climbing. Stair after stair after stair- it was a wonder he hadn't blacked out. He sighed and sat upon the frigid stone, peering up into the dark evening's sky and caressing the full moon with his eyes. He bent down and lied upon the rocky ground, hearing a distant howl from somewhere in the forbidden forest. He shivered and clicked his tongue. After a moment he was startled by a sudden crack from above him. He focused his vision and saw his father leaning dissaprovingly over him.   
  
"Get up, you fool." He ordered, scoffing. "What are you doing on the ground, you filthy child? You'll dirty yourself." Draco stood and turned as his father dusted his back off.   
  
"Apologies, father." He mumbled, frowning.  
  
"Yes, of course you apologize. Stop groveling and tell me what you think of my letter. Are you going to agree, and come with Voldemort?" Draco shyed his head away.   
  
"I- I suppose-"  
  
"Speak up, son, so I can hear you good and clear." Draco looked up at his father and reminisced upon the times when he'd have done anything to be in this position. And now, what was he? He wanted to find the time to take a clear look at his pitiful, meaningless life. He wanted to know why he was destined to such a thing. He wanted to understand why heredity decided his fate. He bit his lower lip.  
  
"I- yes." He whispered. Lucius shone a wide smirk at him, then placed his palm on his sons head and patted it.   
  
"I knew you'd come around, boy." He retorted fatuously, nodding his head. "Knew my letter'd talk some sense into you." Draco said not a word, but stood rigid, feeling his weight upon the ground. It was hard to stand; his knees were oscillating visibly. "I'll send you word of when Lord Voldemort's next meeting is. He is planning an attack on a few mudbloods in London: he wants you there. He'll give you the...initiation." Lucius's fowl grin broadened. Draco remained silent. "Haven't you any curiosity as to what goes on in those meetings? What the initiation is like?" He wanted to say no, but thought better of it.  
  
"I do." He said curtly.   
  
"Yes, well you'll have to find out, won't you? All I can say is that I'm sure you'll find interest there, even if the process of becoming a true death eater is, to put it simply, painful." His face was almost collapsing in the wide, evil smile he was showing.   
  
"P-painful?" Draco whimpered.  
  
"Oh, well you thought it might not be? You know how awesome the power of our Lord is, I thought that you'd be smarter. Although with your current grades, I should have known better-" He sighed and leaned his chin on the back of his hand. Draco scoffed and brushed a hand through the tender night air.   
  
"Of course, how insolent of me."  
  
"VERY insolent, boy." Lucius responded, spitting. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the Minister of Magic, that muggle-loving twit. Trying to get information on his whereabouts in a few weeks. Voldemort sees him as one of our next targets." And with a crack and a distant shimmer, he was gone.   
  
"Call me ignorant, I'll show you..." Draco mumbled as he made his way back to the Slytherin common room. "I'll teach you to mess with a Malfoy. Parseltongue." He barked at the stone wall which led to the dungeons. The wall slid open and he stepped inside.  
  
As he stumbled down the last few steps, he hurled himself over to the arm chairs toppled into one.   
  
"Back a little late?" Came a ragged, mocking voice. Draco looked up.   
  
"Blaise." He ackowlged, nodding.   
  
"Library?"  
  
"Uh, yeah. Researched for that damned Transfiguration project. Professor McGonagall is such a-"  
  
"I know." She responded, smiling softly. "I was just there. Funny, I don't remember seeing you."  
  
"How, er, strange. You know, I'm a little tired. I'm going to go to bed and-" But just as he stood to leave, Blaise reached a hand into her robes and pulled out her wand. Pointing it at Draco, she exclaimed,  
  
"I know where you were, Draco. You don't have to lie to me." He looked at her curiously.   
  
"How?" He questioned shortly. Blaise laughed.  
  
"You think that you boys are the only ones who mess up the other gender's dorms while their away? Well you're horribly wrong..." Her smile faded slowly. "I found your letter. I didn't know things were getting so serious, Draco. Why didn't you tell me?" He bowed his head. Blaise was just another thing he had on his list of problems. They had been friends ever since they were children; since before they were able walk or talk. Draco had always found her strangely intriuging, yet oddly distant. But he felt that he was being unfair to her by not telling about his destiny. He couldn't live that way. So the heartless Draco Malfoy did have some warmth peirced into the frost. Draco swiped a stray hair out of his eye and replied,  
  
"I just couldn't. Father said if anyone found out, even a Slytherin-"   
  
"Since when did that ever stop you?" Blaise interrupted. Draco frowned an continued.  
  
"He doesn't like the fact that your parents betrayed Lord Voldemort. He despises you, and despises me for not feeling the same way he does. I told him that your parents cannot decide the path that you take. But does he listen? No. So I couldn't tell. If you found out, he said, He'd have to deal with me. I don't want that again, Blaise." She nodded and put her wand down.  
  
"Its okay." She responded slowly. "I just wonder how you can cope with all of this."   
  
"I really can't, thats the thing." Blaise paused for a moment, then pocketed her wand. After a minute of thought, she said playfully,  
  
"C'mon, Malfoy, lets go taunt some Gryffindors in the library. All for say I."  
Draco stood, stretching and stated,  
  
"I."  
*** 


	3. Living With Reality

Bound   
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Three: Living with reality  
  
It was Malfoy. And some mysterious brunette. What was her name again? Blaise? It didn't matter, anyway. Hermione knew just to stay as far away from them as possible so she could finish her project. She collected her scattered things in hope that she'd have enough time to relocate herself at a table in which was father away from the Slytherins. But she was simply not fast enough. The pair spotted her, and with a quick smirk, took the seat nearest her. She groaned and looked away.  
  
"Well if it isn't Miss I-think-I'll-go-to-the-library-to-look-smart. Well, I'll tell you, it's not working."  
  
"Shove off, Malfoy." Hermione responded in a weak exhale.   
  
"Why would I ever do such a thing? You seem to be perfectly lost without your two companions- what happened? Did they get bored of you? Moved on to a prettier girl? Would do those two nitwits good to find someone with a little charm, though I doubt there's anyone like that in Gryffindor." Hermione ignored him and continued her work. "What happened? Too dumbstruck to speak?" She threw her quill down and jerked her head to gaze rudely at his face.  
  
"Get away from me."   
  
"Some come back, Granger! Did it take you all day to think of that one?" Hermione narrowed her eyes and scribbled down something on her parchment. Draco stood, yawning and took Blaise roughly by the hand. "C'mon, Zambini, I'm getting bored of Granger here." Blaise smirked and stood, gathering her hair in her fist.  
  
"Disgusting." She mumbled, taking in Hermione's conservative looks, and smiling at her own erratic, liberal ones. "So Draco, what now?" Draco looked about gingerly.  
  
"Geez, what a boring place. Only one Gryffindor." Blaise nodded in agreement and entwined her fingers.   
  
"And it had to be that idiotic mudblood, Granger. Who does she think she is, anyway? Strutting around thinking she has charm JUST because she hangs about with Potter. It makes me sick. Only a woman with true beauty has charm." Draco pivoted his head towards Blaise with a quick sneer and inspected her attractiveness. It was true that she was prepossessing, with her dark, smooth locks and her morbid red eyes, and he idolized her for a moment. He had never really noticed how beautiful she was. "Malfoy, snap out of it." Draco came to from his trance and focused his blurred vision on her stern face. "Your eyes were glassing over. It scared me."  
  
"S-sorry" He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Dunno what came over me."  
***  
"Did he bother you again, Hermione? I'll kill him..."   
  
"No, Ron." Hermione reconciled, brushing a mangled curl out of her face. "Just being Malfoy."  
  
"That's just the kind of behavior I'd expect from the little git. Don't worry, Hermione, I'll show him what a real Gryffindor is made of."  
  
"I'm sure you will." She agreed, propping her book up on her knee. The fire was crackling boredly in front of them as they prepared for winter break. They only had a week to go until they escaped from the exile that was their classes, and they were very excited. Hermione had decided to stay for Christmas break in order to find more time for her project. Ron had also chosen to stay to accompany Harry, who of course could not go home. So they were ready for a good time, and wanted to do the best the could to make the time come as quickly as was possible. Harry smiled at Hermione's sarcasm and looked at Ron.  
  
"I heard Malfoy's staying for break, too." He said solemnly, shaking his head. "His father's going to be away for some kind of business trip."  
  
"Business trip." Ron laughed, widening his eyes. "More like a death eater meeting."  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised." Harry and Hermione said simultaneously, nodding. Ron grinned and kicked Hermione's book off of her knee.   
  
"Stop being boring, Hermione." He told her, chuckling slightly.  
  
"And what else do you suggest I be?" She asked with curiosity. Ron gave her a serious look.  
  
"You can be boring any old day. Its Friday. No classes for two days!" Ron did a sort of a dance, then collapsed back upon the scarlet armchair. "Lighten up a little." Hermione considered, then picked up her book. "Oh c'mon, Hermione!" He gave her a furtive, hopeful glance, and with that, she hurled the book at him.  
  
"Literature fight!" Screamed Ron, throwing the book back at her. She caught it and laughed,  
  
"One point for me." Soon the air was filled with flying books, penetrating the thick, boring silence of the studious common room with the whooshing and giggling. After a while, Seamus joined in, then Dean, then Lavender, then Ginny, then after a while the whole of Gryffindor house (excluding the head boy) was tangled within the fight. It turned out to be a wonderful evening, after all.   
  
***  
"Blaise, what would you do if a worthless piece of Gryffindor scum saved you from dying?"  
  
"Like that would ever happen." She responded, sneering. "But if it did? I don't think I'd be able to live with myself. I mean, every wizard knows about that bond that the victim shares with his rescuer."  
  
"Bond?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, like if someone saves someone else's life, they are forever in debt to that person?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yeah, its commonly known. I thought a pure blood such as yourself would know that."  
  
"Blaise, can you excuse me?" He asked, stunned.  
  
"Uh, I guess-"  
  
"Thanks, gotta go." He dashed away swiftly, leaving Blaise in a dull shock. He ran through the deserted corridors shrewdly, not careful to make himself scarce. He didn't care if someone heard him. He had to get away, to go somewhere. He didn't care where. A bond? That he had to fulfill? Blaise had to be mistaken. He turned a sharp corner and thrashed his way down the proceeding hallway, trying to bat away the thoughts that danced in his mind. A bond that he could not break. He was forever connected to a mudblood. A MUDBLOOD. If Voldemort found out, which was extremely possible, Draco would be in grave danger. Voldermort had the power to know all, and if he sensed muggle essence, Draco would suffer. He shivered in the sheer thought of it.  
  
He was now in the great hall. Running to the door, Draco crashed into it, attempting to open it. As he pulled it ajar, he toppled out onto the snowy grounds, forgetting that he was freezing. He jogged with raw hatred to the back of the castle, his destination the quidditch stadium. "I hate her." He mumbled, his words evaporating into a mocking mist. "And I don't owe her anything."   
  
Draco sat upon a cold and empty bleacher, head in his hands. *I'll never give her anything. She doesn't deserve this. I don't deserve this.* He embraced himself as the air wrapped morbidly around him. The macabre atmosphere pressed against his flushed cheeks, dusting them with rosy hatred. Draco curled up with himself and bit his lip. "She's disgusting." He said aloud, rubbing the corners of his eyes. "Why would someone of such an inferior position be attached to me?"  
  
Then it hit him. There was no getting out of it. He was stuck to a debt he'd never intended to have. He was attached to a promise he'd never intended to keep. He was tied to the one person that he had for so long detested. He was entwined in a bond of hatred, wrapped in a blanket of shame. Draco Malfoy was bound.   
***  
The trees of winter grew ivory with the snow that fell desperately from the cloudy sky. It shimmered in the disappearing sun, twinkled as it dropped, and landed upon the grounds of Hogwarts in a beautifully graceful action. The castle was delicately adorned in the flakes, displaying a picture-perfect view. Hogwarts was so aesthetically pleasing during this season that it could have taken one's breath away, yet it made Hermione stricken with grief. It just meant that she was a step closer to the end of the year. She only had a little while to go until she went off alone into the wizarding world, with again no companions. It was true that she still had a year and a half to go, but to think that this was her second-to-last Christmas at Hogwarts was depressing. She sighed as she ran her finger across the border of the frigid window, retracing times from her past when she, Harry, and Ron had reminisced. Those days- THOSE were the days she'd give anything to repeat. But days were growing old and frigid, and the nights were turning dank and scary. Nothing but darkness.   
  
She was bound to Draco Malfoy, and there was no way of getting out of it.   
*** 


	4. Tattoos of Memories

Bound  
By: Angel Of Music  
  
Author's note and disclaimer: I apologize for the time it took to get this chapter out. I've been having some emotional difficulties that have slowed the process. But all is well now, so enjoy! On a happier note, my chapter title needs a disclaimer, because if you haven't already noticed, it is lyrics from a Greenday song entitled "Good Riddance." It fits with this chapter very well, and I give my thanks too Greenday whose lyrics (unfortunately) aren't mine. Thanks again for your patience.   
  
Chapter Four: Tattoos of Memories  
  
  
Silence. The feared item of devastation since the beginning of time. If two shared no contact, no salutations, no words, it was considered tense. It is ever so difficult to break silence peacefully, because it is so raw. Yet without silence, the world would not be the world. Mindful thought occurred in silence, as well as feelings that one would never project otherwise. Hermione thought it best to keep silent about Malfoy. But within her silence, so much more than a promise lingered.   
  
She spun the dagger between her fingers, running a knuckle down it's blade. It pierced her flesh slightly, and she hissed as a bit of blood drooled out of her skin. She put it aside and nourished her wound with a flick of her wand. She sighed as she gazed thoughtfully at the attractive object, wondering why Malfoy had ever wanted to kill himself. His life seemed so...good. It was rumored, or course, that his father didn't treat him splendidly, but Hermione doubted this. That was to say, Lucius always got Draco what he wanted, didn't he? Then again, she contradicted, material possessions weren't everything. She exhaled thoughtfully, not able to take her eyes off of the dagger. For once, Malfoy had been right. She shouldn't have meddled in his affairs. She should have just let him die.   
  
She stood and placed the dagger back in her pocket. If only she hadn't gone to the library that fateful night. It had been what bound her. On the other hand, however, Malfoy did owe her something. She'd never pictured Malfoy as being someone who was in debt to her. It was slightly humorous, actually, to think that she had something over him. Not quite knowing why, Hermione Granger smiled to herself.  
***  
Blaise hurried down the winding, spiral stairs from her dormitory and leaped into a squashy armchair next to Draco. Her hair was moist, and her cheeks were flushed. She grinned at his placid face and shook him awake. He grunted, then rubbed his eyes.  
  
"I was sleeping, Blaise. God-" He focused his vision on her expression. Her chesnut hair was tangled about her face, making her look wild and mysterious. It stuck to her shoulders and neck in it's dampness, and wound down her back in an awkward, yet attractive tangle. Her eyes were wide and dark, and her lips were turned upward in the slightest smirk.   
  
"You'll never guess who just turned up in my shower stall." Draco's face morphed into a questioning glare at this remark. Noticing his uplifted eyebrows, Blaise chuckled and exclaimed, "No, here- take a look." She reached into her robe pockets and slowly pulled out-  
  
"Nagini!" Draco hissed, throwing an emerald pillow on top of the snake. "Blaise, if anyone should see..."   
  
"You have become really paranoid." Blaise replied, pulling the pillow off of Nagini. "Remember what house you're in? Slytherin?" Draco shook his head.   
  
"How did she get here?"  
  
"Well, she really surprised me, you can imagine. Just taking an innocent shower, and when I open my eyes there's a snake curling out of the drain." She laughed. "I didn't know whether to be honoured or to shove her back down." Blaise looked up at Malfoy.  
  
"She had a note attached to her. Addressed to you, actually." Draco, who was gazing down at his feet, snapped his head up.   
  
"To me?" She handed the soggy letter to him.  
  
"Sorry, it's a little...wet." Draco, prentending to laugh, took the letter from her. "I'll leave you to it." She gave him a limp, worrisome smile and left, slowly climbing back up the stairs to her dorm. Draco paused, took a deep breath, and opened the note.  
  
Draco,  
I sent this letter with Nagini, special permission for Lord Voldemort. I couldn't send it by owl, just in case it was intercepted. You know how I feel about security. Anyway, the first meeting is to be on December the Twenty-Fourth, and we are to dicuss the assasination of The Minister of Magic. We need you there, not only for the initiation, but to include your ideas and thoughts. I will meet you again on the highest astronomy tower at 7:00 pm, where we will take brooms into the forbidden forest, right on the boundary where Hogwarts's property ends. I will guide you. You must bring your broom and your wand. It is of the ut-most importance that you come. You know that I'll have to deal with you. Just get there, and I don't care how. Please send Nagini back down the pipe from which she came when you are through with her- I just hope she turned out in the right one. Be there, Draco, on December the Twenty-Fourth. Good day to you.  
-Lucius.  
  
Draco shuttered and sealed the letter back up, pocketing it. He massaged the bridge of his nose sparsely, waiting for Blaise to come back down. Nagini was slithering up his leg slowly, displaying to Draco her black and red skin. He had never seen a snake that had such a dark black and such a vibrant red on it. He idolized Nagini quickly, then tore her from his calve.   
  
Blaise retreated down the stairs after about 3 or four minutes. She gave him a solemn gaze and shook her head. "Is everything alright, Draco?"   
  
"Yeah." He lied, thrusting Nagini in Blaise's arms. "Put Nagini back down the drain. She'll find her way back, I suppose." Blaise nodded and took the snake, who tangled it's way up her forearm.   
  
"Stoppit, Nagini." Blaise commanded, pulling down her sleeve as Nagini thrust it upward. "Damned snake." As she fought with the energetic reptile, trying desperately to pull it off of her arm, Draco caught a glimpse of something dark and resounding inscribed on her arm.  
  
"Blaise, what is that?" He questioned shakily.  
  
"N-nothing." She stuttered, throwing Nagini onto the ground and pulling her sleeve back down. He eyes darted to her shoes where the snake was winding happily. "It's nothing." She bent over quickly and hurled Nagini over her shoulder, making it hard for it to reach her arm. She coughed shortly, then turned to go back up the stairs. Draco, looking somber and curious, stepped up behind her and ripped her sleeve upward. She gasped and turned around. The dark mark. She gazed, wide eyed and speechless at him, as he placed a curled finger over his lips.   
  
"Blaise-" But nothing came out. He just stared at her as she stood motionless and without words, with her beautiful auburn locks and deep red eyes, and held his breath. She bit her nail quickly, then threw her hand back down again. Draco, in awe and sheer disbelief, leaned over and kissed her.  
***  
"Christmas break!" Ron yelled happily, throwing his bag onto his shoulder. No more potions for three weeks!" Hermione nodded in agreement and ran a hand through her knotty hair.   
  
"That doesn't mean no work, though." Harry replied sadly, pouting. "Snape piled loads of homework on us."   
  
"I know." Ron droned. "I can't believe that we have to write a paper on the 101 uses for Toad Warts."  
  
"It won't be so hard..." Hermione reassured them, although she knew that this was a downright lie. "I mean, I already know 84 of them. All I have to do is find 17 more, don't I? Now you two better get to the library soon."  
  
"84, Hermione?" Ron said disbelievingly. "I don't even know 3."  
  
"Well most of them are in '1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi.' Haven't you read it?"  
  
"Yeah," Began Ron sarcastically. "Every last page." Hermione frowned and adjusted her bag.  
  
"So," Said Harry, breaking the tension. "Can you wait until the feast?" Both Ron and Hermione shook their heads. "That's the spirit." Harry smiled. "Godric" He demanded as they approached the fat lady. She scoffed and swung open. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped inside, chucking their bags to the side as they entered. The common room was alive with lively conversation and laughter, displaying the perfect start-of-winter-break mood. The trio all shared a smile as Neville ran up to them and offered them a chocolate frog. Each accepted, and opened the package.   
  
"Alright!" Screamed Ron. "I finally got Agrippa!" He smiled and shoved the card into his pocket, attempting to thrust the whole frog into his mouth. He dashed over to Neville and hugged him, showing him the card. Neville awkwardly grinned and gave Ron the 'thumbs up.'   
  
The rest of the night went well, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had anticipated. It almost made Hermione forget about Draco for a while. It almost freed her from worry. It almost diminished her dreads. Almost.  
***  
"When I was a child, maybe only two months of age, my parents taught me to be cruel. They brought me to Voldemort. They said that they wanted me to grow to be a death eater. Now as you know, when I was two months, Voldemort was still in power. He was stronger than ever. He gave me the initiation, and I became one of them. When he fell, my parents decided not to return to him, and they advised me to do the same. I hid from him in fear. I did not want to be part of his cult. No, I don't oppose it, because yes, Mudbloods don't deserve to be here, but I do not want to ruin my life because of a promise I never made. I never asked to be a death eater. But my mark still remains. Draco, you must understand."  
  
Draco cupped his hands and placed his face in them. Blaise, his everlasting companion, had the dark mark, and he was sure to get it next. He had the same views as her, but there was no way to prevent himself from becoming a death eater. It was his fate. His destiny. His life. Her words ran through his mind. 'I do not want to ruin my life because of a promise I never made.' It was sort of funny that Blaise didn't know how much alike she and Draco were. It was almost as if THEY shared the bond. Malfoy wished that they did, instead of Granger. It was coming so soon, the day that Voldemort would find out that he was bound. A promise he'd never made. Draco shook his head. Without a word, he thrust the note into Blaise's palm. She opened it cautiously.  
  
After a moment, she closed the letter and stared up at Draco. "So you agreed to become one." She whispered, as if already knowing this.  
  
"Yeah." He replied curtly. "My father-"  
  
"I know." She said, rubbing her eyes. "Your father." She stood and gently handed the letter back to him, her hands trembling slightly. Draco wanted to retort, but found no words. She turned around and pulled her sleeve back down, hiding the cursed mark. "Don't worry." She exclaimed quietly, heading back up the stairs.  
*** 


	5. Dark and Loathsome Pain

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Five: Dark and Loathsome Pain  
  
Nothing but darkness. The fear the embraced it, the night that beheld it. Beautiful and constricting. Lonely and sad. Draco was living in a world where all his hopes were lost. It was only a matter of hours before he was expected up at the Astronomy tower, a matter of hours before he would see that putrid face that was his father's, a matter of hours before Voldemort would find out that he was strung to a Mudblood. His heart beat as if strings were binding it as he sat waiting for the time to come. He was going to be alone.  
  
It seemed to take ages for dinner to halt. He ate silently and quickly in hope that if he finished his plate, others would too. This was but of course a lie, yet it made Draco feel less ancy. He sighed sparsely and looked up as he felt eyes upon him. Glancing around uneasily, he spotted who was staring at him. Granger. She looked away immediately as his eyes fell upon her. Why was she gazing so shrewdly at him? Draco turned his head and placed it in his palms. No sooner had he done so then he felt a hand run down his back.  
  
"Granger's looking at you."  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
"I'm glad you care so much." Blaise smiled and sat in a chair next to his. "Merry Christmas, Draco." she leaned her head against Draco's shoulder and shut her eyes. "Why so glum, Malfoy?"  
  
"It's nothing." He grunted, ignoring Blaise's curious glances.  
  
"No one ever says it's nothing unless it's something." She admonished, parting her lips.   
  
"What makes you say that?" He questioned, admiring her wit.   
  
"Simple experience, I suppose. Now tell me what's going on."  
  
"Nothing, I told you." Blaise gave him a twisted smirk and a raise of her eyebrows, then stood. She shook her head and widened her eyes, leaning over to kiss Draco's cheek. "Blaise-"  
  
"Just trying to make Granger jealous, Malfoy, calm down." Draco quesioned her with his eyes and raised his chin.  
  
"Okay, whatever."  
  
"Draco?" She asked, just before turning around. "Don't worry about tonight. Everything's going to be fine. I know what you're going through." She bit her lip worriedly and hurried away. *That's right.* Draco thought, remembering how she knew. *The letter.* He sighed with an elongated inhale, then placed his head down on the table to wait for dinner to end.  
***  
"You're late, Draco."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Well, if you came a moment later, we'd be in an awful lot of trouble. Now get on your broom." Draco lifted a leg over the smooth handle of his Nimbus 2003, the newest and greatest of the Nimbus models. His father sneered and motioned him towards the forest.   
  
They flew freely for a while, darting over clusters of dark trees and woods. Draco all the while prayed that his bond would not be recognized.   
  
"Why so nervous, boy?" Lucius asked after about a half of an hour of flying. "Voldemort takes a liking to you. He wont do anything cruel to you."  
  
"And what if he sensed Mudbloods about me, father? Then would he care?"  
  
"Oh, god knows why he'd sense that. You haven't been doing anything with despicable no-bloods, have you?" Lucius snarled, spitting slightly.  
  
"No, father. Just a hypothetical question."  
  
"Well thats good to hear." Lucius replied coldly, dipping his broom. "Ah, here we are. Just in time." Through the thick brush, Draco could see tiny twinkles of light where follower's wands must have been illuminating. He heard hushed voices and soft laughter, and the icy voice of someone whom he feared...  
  
"Draco Malfoy. How...good of you to come."  
  
"My Lord." Draco bowed, getting off of his broom.  
  
"I sense weakness, child, not something a good Death Eater should have. Why the nerve?"  
  
"I am just too greatful, my Lord, that you would allow such a humble boy as myself to join your cult."  
  
"I see. Take a seat with the others. The initiation will begin shortly." Draco did not like the looming smile Voldemort gave him as he sat upon a rotting log. He shuttered and rubbed his forehead.   
  
Within the next few minutes, atleast ten more people arrived, bringing the total up to around 50 or 60. Draco inspected them all, half-hoping he'd see Blaise. He knew, of course, that he would not, for she had made the wise decision to abandon the Dark Lord. He admired her courage, and wished he'd had the same. He shook his head as his eyes fell upon a man shuttering in a torn cloak, and brought himself away from his thoughts.   
  
"With us today," Began Voldemort, glancing about at the crowd. "Is one Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy." A few people clapped. "He is to be one of us, and we will now witness the initiation. Come child." He motioned toward a stump in the center of the ring of men, and Draco stood. He began to walk toward it, shaking slightly. "Stop!" Cried Voldemort after a moment. "I sense something." He inhaled and closed his eyes. "Mudbloods." He whispered harshly, glancing about. "Who is giving off mudblood essence?" A stout, balding man stood and raised his arm weakly.  
  
" 'Tis I, sire, whom you sense. My wife- her cousin's husband is a mudblood. I shook his hand, sire, and that's what you are sensing."   
  
"Insolent fool!" Screeched Voldemort, scoffing and narrowing his eyes. "You will not TOUCH a mudblood, do you understand me?"  
  
"Yes-yes sire." Voldemort shook his head broadly and turned back to Draco.  
  
"Sit, boy." Draco sat, looking upward at his lord wearily, and wishing more than anything now that he was back in the castle with anyone, anyone but the people he was with now. He cringed as Voldemort commanded he lift his right sleeve. Doing so, he felt a seering pain shoot though his forearm. He called out slightly, hissing, and brought his left palm to the burn. "Calm down." Commanded Voldemort coldly, making Draco jump. "We haven't even began." He shut his eyes and waited for the pain to come again. Instead, he heard hushed voices whispering words that he couldn't recognize, and white lights dancing about his head like twinkling faires. And suddenly, he wasn't on the algid stump anymore. He was wading though a clear blue stream, his pants rolled up and his cloak draped over his shoulder. There was a beautiful field of daises before him, and something compelled him to drift nearer to it.   
  
As he approached the field, he stepped out of the icy water slowly, focusing his vision upon a shadowy figure on the edge of his destination. He reached for it, allowing his damp pant legs to roll thoughtfully down his ankles and cover his mud-stained feet. He smiled briefly, with little thought on his mind but the shadowy figure across the plain, and bent to pick a daisy. As he knelt, he felt a hand upon his shoulder. Chestnut locks fell over his face, and he brushed them away as he stood. Blaise Zambini stood before him, a grim and morbid look painted on her lips.   
  
"It is your fate, Draco. You are bound. It is your destiny. Please understand." Draco took her beautiful, pale hands whose nails were painted crimson and fingers long and thin and embraced them in his palms. He then sighed softly and leaned his chin upon her shoulder.  
  
"I understand." He promised, not really knowing why. Then as suddenly as she had come, she was gone. *Am I going insane?* Draco questioned, turning swiftly about in concealed awe. But the shadowy figure again brought him from his thoughts. He took a step nearer, and found himself right before the woman as if she'd been right in front of him. Her long, tangled sandy hair twisted smoothly down her back as she picked daisies and placed them in baskets. She seemed to not notice Draco, so he cleared his throat. She slowly turned around and stared at him.   
  
"Granger." He opened his mouth to say more, but no words came out. He was so stricken with confusion, he didn't even realize that his arm felt as if it were on fire, and that he was screaming quite loudly. He noticed a ribbon of black light shoot back into Voldemort's wand, and felt himself fall weakly back onto the peeling stump. His forearm was audibly sizzling, and he did not have the nerve to look down at it. There was a moment of tense silence, then Voldemort said fatuously,  
  
"Welcome to the club."  
** *  
"Merry Christmas, Hermione!" Ron squealed as Hermione dashed into the boy's dormitory. She smiled and threw 2 lumpy packages towards Harry and Ron.  
  
"Merry Christmas" She retorted, wrapping a pink blanket about her shoulders. Ron grinned briefly.   
  
"Thanks!" He yelled, as he unwrapped a bright orange scarf stating 'The Chudley Cannons.' Harry waved at Hermione and chimed in his thanks too as he carefully opened his present: a book entitled "Quidditch Through the Ages Again: The Second Journey Begins."  
  
"Oh, and Ron, tell your mother I say thanks for that lovely Rose sweater she knitted me. I really love it." Ron's cheeks flushed as he turned his head away.  
  
"I'll tell her."  
  
"So who wants to go to breakfast?" She asked, her lips twisting into an amused grin as Ron tried to cover up his face.   
  
"Yeah, I'll go." Began Harry breathlessly.   
  
"I'm all for." Ron coughed. The trio galloped happily out of the portrait hole and down to breakfast, talking and laughing. As they made their way into the full room, Hermione's eyes fell on the Slytherin table, noticing that Draco was absent from his seat.  
  
"Wonder where Malfoy is." She exclaimed, scratching her nose.  
  
"Hope somewhere far away." Ron responded, shaking his head. "You notice he sneaked off after dinner last night?" Harry nodded and pointed at Blaise.  
  
"That girl, there. She told him something. I didn't know he had any other friends besides those to gits Crabbe and Goyle."  
  
"Ah, here's Crabbe apple and gar Goyle now." Ron pointed, indicating towards the door. They were lumbering into the Great Hall clumsily, shrugging and pointing at the Slytherin table.   
  
"I didn't see him this morning, I wonder where he is." Hermione heard Goyle say.  
  
"Did you hear that?" Asked Hermione, gesturing for Harry and Ron to come closer. "Malfoy's missing."  
  
"Yesss..." Whispered Ron, bouncing in his seat. He flashed a smirk, then went back to his plate of food. But after a moment (Hermione knew that the glory couldn't last), Draco shuffled in, looking tired and annoyed. He dawdled up to her and said,  
  
"Granger, a word?"  
  
"Get away from her-" Ron demanded.   
  
"Oh shuttup, Weasley, I'm not going to blind her with the sight of my face, for God's sake, though I can hardly say the same for you."  
  
"Lay off, Malfoy." Hermione growled.  
  
"I need a word with you." Hermione gave Harry and Ron a bemused look, then hesitantly stood.  
  
"Fine." He narrowed his eyes and led her into the empty corridor right outside of the great hall. As soon as the doors had closed, he opened his mouth and shouted,  
  
"Do you know what you've done to me, mudblood!? You've ruined my life!"  
  
"I saved your life, you nitwit!" He shoved her against the wall and looked straight into her wide brown eyes.  
  
"I didn't want to be saved...NITWIT. I wanted to die."  
  
"I thought," She began unflinchingly, trying to ignore how close Malfoy's face was to hers, "Maybe you'd realize that killing yourself wasn't worth it." Draco exhaled, not taking his deep stare off of her face, and raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Well I regret not killing you as well as I. I regret being alive."  
  
"As if I want to be bound to you." She mumbled, turning her head to escape Draco's gaze.  
  
"What?" He hissed, pulling himself away. "What did you say?"  
  
"N-Nothing."  
  
"So you know, then. You know too."  
  
"You know?" She questioned, frightened now.   
  
"Damn it, Granger! You know how much this bond has deteriorated me! I have to serve you...I'm forever stuck to you! All because of you disgusting, inconsiderate attempt to be a hero. I take it you've told all of Gryffindor about it?" She didn't answer. She simply stood, eyes fixated and watery, completely still. Then, slowly, she reached into her robes and pulled out Draco's dagger. She threw it upon the ground angrily, leaving Draco speechless as she stormed away in a fit of hatred.   
** 


	6. The Struggle Of Morality

Bound  
By: Angel Of Music  
  
Disclaimer: I would like to take a moment to give credit to my dear friend James for, although he doesn't quite know he did so, helping me with my story. Thanks for giving me the best quote in this fic, and making me feel the same way as Blaise does about Draco (Hahaha, you know I love you)!! So once again I offer my thanks, and this chapter is dedicated to you, James!  
  
Chapter Six: The Struggle Of Morality  
  
As soon as Draco had realized that he was simply standing there, he called after her. She heard him, but did not turn around. He scoffed and stamped his foot poignantly upon the ground.  
  
"Granger, you're going to regret this!" He called, picking up the dagger and placing it in his pocket. He marched, flustered, up the stairs back to the Slytherin common room, mumbling nasty curses and barked "Parseltongue" at the dungeon wall. It slid open slowly, and Draco climbed down the rocky stairwell, trying to ignore the sound of the portcullis sliding shut behind him. He stormed into this dormitory, flinging himself upon his bed and pulling out the dagger. "Once and for all." He whispered, drawing it up into the air. "I shall end this misery." He tried to swing it down, but could not find the courage. And again he attempted to bring it to his skin, yet something held him back. "Damn it, Granger!" He yelled, hurling the knife across the room.   
  
Collapsing on his bed, Draco heard the dormitory door creak open. Not caring who it was, he shut his eyes and tried to block out the image of Voldemort's face as he pointed his wand against Draco's skin. He shuttered and drew his cloak tightly around him. His right forearm throbbed, as if promising him more pain in store. He squeezed his eyelids tighter closed and bit his lip.  
  
"Draco?" Came a soft voice from above him. He lazily opened his eyes, hardly noticing how worried the expression coming from Blaise was.  
  
"Yeah?" He whispered in return, rubbing his forehead.  
  
"You okay?" She silently sat beside him and ran the back of her palm down his cheek. He did not respond, and lay staring at her. She stifled her breath, and put a hand on his knee. "You didn't come to breakfast."  
  
"I wasn't hungry." He told her, cocking his head towards the window. "I was tired."  
  
"Tired. Right." She stated, bringing her hand backwards. There was a brief moment of silence where Draco would have done anything to break but speak, then Blaise coughed, "Did...everything go alright last night?"  
  
"Alright? I don't know if things can go alright in a meeting of death eaters." He snapped.  
  
"Sorry." Blaise muttered, drumming her fingers on her own knee.   
  
"You don't know what it's like there. Darkness, pain, cruelty, deception, fear, lies...it's like a nightmare. There is so much death in the air, it's palpable. Funny..." He retained, shaking his head. "Father once told me that whatever hurts me only makes me stronger, but Blaise, I'm falling apart."  
  
"You never trusted your father on anything else before, why'd you listen to that piece of advice?"  
  
"Because up until last night, he was right." Blaise gave him a look of concern and placed he delicate hand upon his shoulder.   
  
"You know, it's weird, when you get to know someone, even if you dont think of them as any more than a friend in the beginning, you get to know them so well that eventually you see that one totally unique thing that makes them amazing. And it's taken me this long, Draco, to realize that you are in fact one of the most amazing people I've ever met." She took her hand again, and instead of putting it back on her lap, she placed it on his cheek. "I love you, Draco Malfoy." He opened his mouth to speak, but she placed a single finger over her lips to hush him. She closed her eyes and placed her lips over his, embracing him and kissing him. After those few moments of glorious feelings, she pulled away and stood. "Merry Christmas." She stated softly, and left the dormitory.   
***  
"There must be some way to break it, something to do!" Draco hissed, bounding down the corridors. "I must research it. There has to be some way to break this damn bond." He ripped his way through the hallways, finally finding himself in the library. He darted over to Madame Pince and slammed his hand against her desk.  
  
"What is it, lad? Don't get so fussy."  
  
"I was wondering if you have any books on wizard's debt."  
  
"Oh, my dear, we're sure to have at least one...let me check the files." She stuck out her wand and pointed it at the file cabinet. "Accio wizard's debt files!" She demanded, catching several pieces of parchment that were flying her way. "Ah yes. There are three, one by the name of 'Magical Favors, by Garson Gryndilflower.' Oh but that's out. Here's another: 'The Encyclopedia of Wizardly Wonders, by Magdolin Fatstraw...' My, that one's out too. Oh! This one isn't out: 'Debt by Death, by Sadie Pernstein.' It should be in the Dark Arts Defense section. You might as well take a look. Doing a report on it?"  
  
"Er, yes." He lied, shuffling over to a row of books. He checked these, and most of the other books in that section, before realizing that someone in the library must be reading it. He went to inspect.   
  
At first he found nothing. But when he spotted Hermione with her nose stuck in a large book, he made his way over to her. "Granger, I believe you have my book?"  
  
"Your book? Malfoy, this book belongs to the library, and unless you've bought it, I have every right to be reading it."  
  
"Every right to be reading it." He mimicked, flashing a girly face at her. "You've read every book in the library at least four times by now, you always sound like you've swallowed them in class, I think you should be kind enough to give me a turn."  
  
"Give you a turn? She laughed, closing the enormous hard cover and tucking it under her arm. "Are you mad? I need this. If you want to prance around and borrow books that you'll never read, let alone return, you should get one that isn't so useful."  
  
"What would you need to know about a wizards de-?" He laughed, catching what he was saying on the last word. Hermione raised her eyebrows and shook her head.  
  
"No wonder you're doing horribly in school. You're dumber than Crabbe and Goyle, and that's saying something."  
  
"Well, just because I don't suck up to teachers doesn't mean I'm dumb, Miss Professor-McGonagall-you're-looking-nice-today. You get your grades from getting on the teacher's good side, not by talent."  
  
"And your suggesting, Malfoy, that you have talent?" Draco smirked. "Now isn't that the biggest overstatement of the year?" She retorted with a sneer. Draco's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Give me the book, Granger. Someone in the Gryffindor common room who you've told must know something about a wizard's debt." Hermione sighed and clicked her tongue.  
  
"If it makes you feel any more conceded, I haven't told anyone."  
  
"Don't lie, Granger, it's not good for you."  
  
"You don't have to believe me, that's fine. But don't you think a lot more Gryffindor's would be pointing and laughing at you? You must know by now that they all hate you." Draco scowled. "You really want to know why I saved you, Malfoy?" She began after a pause. He stared. "Because, not only was it that I couldn't live with myself if I had just let you die, but I blindly thought that maybe you'd see that there's more to life than you realize. I thought maybe you'd stop poking fun at people because it made you feel better, and start looking at things a little differently. But I can see you'll never change. I should have known that from the start." A little off-handedly, she took the book out from beneath her arm and shoved it towards Draco. "Have a nice Christmas alone, Malfoy." She stood and pushed her chair towards the table. Without a backward glance or any sort of warmth, she gathered her things and left the library.  
***  
Draco marched back into the Slytherin common room, running through the words Hermione had said to him. "Start looking at things a little differently." She didn't have any idea what she was talking about. She was just a stupid little mudblood with an ignorant basis of morality. He exhaled angrily. As he approached the emerald armchairs to sit, he caught Blaise's eye. He made his way over to her and noticed Nagini, huge and beautiful as ever, perched lazily on her lap. She was stroking the snake softly, and it was falling asleep.  
  
"Hello, Draco." Whispered Blaise, handing him a slip of parchment. "Another letter from our friend." Draco bent over and somewhat awkwardly kissed her, taking the slip from her hands. He sat next to her and tore it open.  
  
Dear Draco,  
  
It stated professionally,  
  
Another meeting is to be held in one week's time, same place, same hour. We are to discuss something of the ut-most importance. Your presence is truly needed. We will be observing a few facts that have haunted our Lord for ages. Fifteen years ago, when the Dark Lord fell, you were but one year of age. You didn't know at the time that so much would occur in your life, but two years ago, when Voldermort rose, was the critical time in all of our lives, especially Lord Voldemort's. As it was his assistant, Wormtail, who helped him come to power, many of our kind abandoned our Lord. This meeting, Draco, is to rid the earth of those who abandoned him. I hope you can join the...festivities. Send me a letter with Nagini.  
  
Lucius.  
  
He folded the letter up and slowly placed it in his robes. But he could not find any movement as he tried to stand, because Blaise was one of those people he was supposed to kill.  
*** 


	7. The Death of Old Ways

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Seven: The Death of Old Ways  
  
"As you all know, many of our kind have left me." Voldemort mumbled, stroking his chin. "All of them abandoned me in my hour of need. When I tried to call upon them, where were they? They tricked me, all of them. Lied to me. They left my dying for 13 years. Sure, there was that git Quirrel and the silly little diary in which that Weasley girl took a hold of (Thanks to Lucius), but I remained sealed in a constricted form. Not until Wormtail came along did I prosper. But those who abandoned me must pay, for I will not tolerate that behavior." Draco swallowed and shut his eyelids, trying to picture Blaise's mournful ruby eyes in his mind. He had fallen in love with those eyes. They were so beautiful; they reminded Draco of a sunset on an autumn evening. "My mission," Began the Dark Lord once more, "Is to rid the earth of those despicable treasoners once and for all." Others around Voldemort nodded frivolously, including Lucius. Draco stood still, face fixated on his feet.   
  
He could not believe that his usual solid, aloof self was falling apart. Falling in love. He and Blaise had been friends for so long, and it seemed unlikely that they were now beginning to admire each other. But if he was commanded to kill her...where does listening to your superior end and insanity begin? The line between the two grew hazy as Draco rubbed his eyes and slouched even further down upon the moldy stump.   
  
"And so I have already sent some of you to kill them. And I will assign you all someone to kill. You must complete these duties in no more than one month. Once I call your name and victim, you may go." Lucius smirked and ran a hand through his glossy, sliver-blonde hair. "Lucius, I have decided since your son is somewhat of a rookie, you and he shall be paired. Both of you get the Fredcook family. I want them all done away with, you hear? You may go." Both Lucius and Draco stood and jumped upon their brooms. Draco's head was swimming with thoughts. He had to do something to stop this. He had to warn Blaise immediately. He, Draco Malfoy, was expected to kill someone. No, not someone, many people. A whole family. A family he'd bet anything on wasn't too different then Blaise's. He sighed and kicked off into the air. So many questions were running through his mind that he hardly heard Lucius gurgle,  
  
"I'll send you a letter in about one week telling you what the situation is. Draco, you know this will help get some things off your mind. Killing always has that effect on me. Like a breath of fresh air." Draco paused and glanced up at his father.  
  
"You know something," He began quietly, "You're sick." Lucius halted his broom in mid-air, his expression looking furiously cruel.  
  
"What did you say, boy?" He spat.   
  
"You're a sick man." Draco said in a small crescendo.  
  
"And why is that?" Lucius snarled, tilting his head as if able to understand his son better this way.   
  
"Killing for pleasure? That isn't what I call a healthy pastime." Lucius's eyes widened and he inched himself closer to Draco.  
  
"Excuse me, your highness," He barked, glaring. "But I didn't think your opinion mattered that much."  
  
"Well excuse me!" Draco yelled, startling his father. "But my friend is one of those people who is going to be killed!"  
  
"Your friend?" Lucius laughed, a bemused grin playing on his lips. "Now that you are a death eater, you will forget your friends and concentrate on what's important."  
  
"What's important to me, Lucius, is Blaise Zambini. There, I said it."   
  
"How dare you..." He started, breathing heavily. He flew over to Draco and gave his broom a good kick in the side. Losing his balance, he toppled off of the broom and into the thick brush of the forbidden forest. Bruised and bleeding, he stood and dusted himself off, pivoting his head to look for his broom. He paused when he spotted a few bristles sticking out of a dark bush, and made his way over to the now damaged broom. Above, he could hear his father cackling, "Good luck finding your way back..." He sifted through the bush and picked up a now destroyed broom, wondering how he would ever get back to the castle. He had to be at least an hour away in walking distance, and he didn't know the way back. He would have followed the path straight, opposite from where he came, but he retained a few sharp turns that he had made on the way to the meeting. He sighed, and began to head in what he thought was east.   
  
The sky was cold and dark as it wrapped itself about Draco. He shivered sparsely, hoping that he'd get out of the forest before the deep of night. It was black as a blank memory in the forest, and the moon could barely be seen in the thick serenity of the evening. Draco tried to find the stars. It had to be past midnight by now, and Hogwarts was no where in sight. He stopped shortly and sat upon the ground, embracing himself as he shivered. He closed his eyes and attempted to picture something that would get the strange noises of the forest out of his mind. Clearing his thoughts, he concentrated on the warmth of the castle. He tried not to think, but just let the image slide into his mind. But what came was something he never expected to see.  
***  
'He has to be the lowliest of men I've ever met.' Hermione scribbled into her journal, scoffing. 'Always pushing himself into things that aren't any of his business, like my life. Everything about him bothers me. His hair, his eyes, his looming gaze, and by far his attitude. Can't he just for once understand that everyone hates that about him? I cannot understand him.' She signed her name quickly and slammed the notebook closed, shutting her eyes. She sprawled out upon her bed and left herself to her thoughts. *Why is he always hanging about that Blaise girl?* She contemplated, wondering why she was wasting valuable thinking time on Malfoy. *If he's so worthless, why do I care?* She added while she pondered. She exhaled slowly and sat back up.  
  
Classes were commencing again in two days, and Hermione wanted nothing more. At least she'd be able to escape from reality for a moment, and have a little time to herself. That was always why she liked learning so much; she was able to run away from exile for a while, and concentrate on her work. She stood, stretching, and made her way over to the open window, which was emitting a small burst of cold air. She leaned upon the windowsill and look outward, glad that the room wasn't lit so that she could see unto the grounds. The forest was so peaceful at night, although she knew that on the inside it was not. She leaned her burning forehead against the algid window, leaving a small imprint in the condensation. She was about to return to her bed when movement caught her eye.   
  
Something from inside the forest was emerging, shadowy and dark against the midnight sky, and Hermione strained her eyes to see it. She could not, so she quickly dashed to her bedside and grabbed her wand. Sticking it out the window, she muttered "Lumos," and the wand illuminated.   
  
Malfoy. And he had seen her. And she had seen him. As their eyes met, he shuffled away, trying to pretend that she wasn't blatantly staring at him. Hermione, after realizing that she wasn't moving, tucked her wand away and shut the window as fast as she could without being audible. She threw it onto her bedside table and jumped back on the four poster bed, shutting the curtains. *What was Malfoy doing in the forest?* She wondered, turning onto her her side. But before the answer had even touched her mind, she fell into a deep slumber.  
***  
Draco darted softly into the common room, trying hard to wake no one. Granger had seen him exit the forest. She was sure to tell someone, and then much would be found out. His stomach ached in fear of the events to come, and he walked quietly over to the dying fire.   
  
"Oh my God, Draco, where were you?" Whispered a harsh voice which belonged to Blaise. "I waited up all night for you! Something has happened, Draco, something horrid."  
  
"Blaise!" He retorted. "I have to tell you something. Everything. Promise you'll listen." She stared at him, not quite knowing whether to be angry, concerned, or to just obey. But it was just then that Draco noticed tears forming in her eyes.   
  
"Something's happened." She repeated, more alarmed this time.   
  
"What is it?"  
  
"My parents were...killed." She put simply. Her throat swelled and tightened as her darting eyes focused on his face. "By your kind. Why couldn't you have told me that Voldemort was going to do this? Why didn't you warn me?"  
  
"I was going to, just now!"  
  
"Just now? It's a little late, don't you think, Malfoy? Jesus, did you think they'd wait?"  
  
"But-" He began. "Voldemort just instructed us tonight. They couldn't have been killed."  
  
"Well I just got an owl a half of an hour ago that was sent at around 9:30. When was your meeting adjourned?"  
  
"8:00..." He stuttered, leaning upon a chair to keep his balance. "I'm so sorry, Blaise."  
  
"Draco..." She started, noticing something. "If Voldemort instructed you all to kill someone, were you also told to do so?"  
  
"I...yes..."  
  
"And are you?"  
  
"I don't think I have much of a choice. I talked to my father-" Blaise let out a small cry.  
  
"Then I don't think I have much of a choice, either. I can't be associated with someone like that. My parents are dead, Malfoy, because of something you agreed to do. What would you have done if Voldemort had told you to kill my family? Would you have done it? Of course you would have, because of your father. I don't think you have any idea of what the principles of right and wrong are. I mean, where does it end? You have to draw a line somewhere, Draco. You should have said no in the first place when your father asked you to be a Death Eater. I know that you can be emotionally stronger than he is. But you have to find that out for yourself, and put your morality into play. You have to stop somewhere. You're succumbing to your father's power."  
  
"I knew from the start what this would result in destroying my basis of morality, Blaise." He snapped, trying to find words for what she had just said to him. He HAD tried to draw the line. He DIDN'T want to kill. But he had to.  
  
"Draco, I don't...I don't think that we should speak anymore." Blaise said softly. "I can't live with this. I don't know whether to be sorry, or..." She brushed a falling tear from her chin. As she trailed off, she turned and climbed the stairs to her dormitory. "To avenge my parents." She whispered, shaking her head.   
***  
Draco paced slowly down the corridor that he'd nearly memorized by now. He hadn't even started his Transfiguration project yet, and it was time he started to work on it. He had nothing better to do, anyway. Still walking, he shut his eyes and rubbed them, trying not to think about what he'd seen in his mind that night in the forest. He continued to dawdle, his eyes still closed, and hit hard into something. He heard a crash just before opening his eyes. "Granger." He acknowledged, noting the books that were now splattered upon the ground. "Nice job."  
  
"That was your job, Malfoy, compliment yourself." He raised his eyebrows and glanced down the perpendicular corridor that Hermione had just emerged from. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Why so curious?" He asked, sneering.   
  
"I'm not." She began defensively. "Just hoping your not going to the library."  
  
"As a matter of fact, I am."  
  
"Goody." She sighed sarcastically, throwing her books into her bag.   
  
"Well, this has been, er, fun...have a perfectly Potter-free day, for your own sake."  
  
"Is that your new salutation? Its pretty bad." She chuckled to herself, standing. He shook his head in noting her answer and began walking away from her."  
  
:"Hey Malfoy!" She called, catching up to him. "Why were you in the forest last night?" Draco coughed quickly. "Oh c'mon. One of us had to mention it."  
  
"None of your business, Granger. Stay out of it."  
  
"Fine, but McGonagall is going to have to hear of-"  
  
"Alright, alright!" He hushed her. "I was...I was going for a nighttime broom ride, and I...I fell off of my broom while I was flying over the forest. It was destroyed, so I left it there." She gave him an I-don't-believe-you look and bit her lip. "Don't tell McGonagall."  
  
"And what would make me not want to? I mean, I could get you into an awful lot of trouble. And I could tell her about the dagger, too. And the bond-"  
  
"What do you want me to do, Granger? Seriously."  
  
"I guess nothing." She admitted, frowning. "Or, wait...I've got an idea."  
  
"What?" He snapped, gazing at her amused expression.   
  
"I want you to admit that Harry's better than you at quidditch. Because, honestly Malfoy, you know it's true?"  
  
"Excuse me?" He sputtered. "I will not lie."  
  
"Then Professor-"  
  
"Fine! My God, your bothersome. Potter-"  
  
"Wait! Hold on." She drew out he wand and pointed it at Draco. Before he could protest, she shouted "Recordiam!" At him, and nudged him to say it.  
  
"Potter...Potter is...better...better than me...at Quidditch..."  
  
"Merecordiam!" Hermione shouted, tucking her wand back into her pocket. Before it was fully gone, she burst out laughing. "That- that was the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life!" She breathed between giggles. "Honestly, that was hilarious."  
  
"What was that spell?" Malfoy demanded, very annoyed. "And you're not going to tell McGonagall, are you?"  
  
"I just recorded what you said. Hope you don't mind."  
  
"You what?!"  
  
"Yeah, that's your punishment for making me keep some secrets, Malfoy."  
  
"Oh, geez." He sighed.  
  
"And no, after that, I wouldn't tell McGonagall." Malfoy sneered and strolled ahead of her, flustered.   
  
"Wonderful bribery, Granger. A quality I never knew you had." And with that, he walked out of sight.   
  
As Hermione slowly dawdled towards the library, laughing to herself, she smiled a bit. Because Malfoy hadn't called her mudblood even once.   
***  
It was nearing four o'clock when Draco completed his project. He rubbed his eyes and stuffed the long parchment into his bag, making his way over to the Dark Arts Defense section of the library. He glanced at it for a moment, then located the book that he'd wished to see. 'Magical Favors, by Garson Gryndilflower.' He drew it from the shelf, then went to sit at one of the wooden tables. Lowering himself onto a chair, he opened the book directly to a useful page. 'Ten useful ways to break a wizard's debt.' It stated. He scanned them and ran over a few. 'The most useful way to break a bond created by a wizard's debt is by saving the person whom saved your's life. Then second most effective way, amazingly enough, is a kiss. But only a true kiss. One that within it holds passion, romance, desire, and love.' Draco chuckled and looked over the rest. All of them seemed impossible. He sighed and placed the book back on the shelf, too depressed to read on. He stood and left the library, wishing that he could go back to the common room and see Blaise. To tell her everything.   
  
He stepped slowly up the staircase that led to the Slytherin common room. He was nearing it, and he was very tired. Maybe he'd get some sleep when he returned.  
  
Completely forgetting about the stair that he always skipped, he stepped right upon it. He'd never really knew what it did, but his head boy had always told him not to step on it. Now he understood. It felt as if he was falling through several layers of ice. His blood grew cold and felt as if it were about to freeze. He yelled out at first, but as the cool air rushed through his hair he became more calm. After a moment of falling, he suddenly landed upon stone ground.   
  
The place was unfamiliar, but it looked as if it were a part of Hogwarts castle. He stood and brushed himself off, glancing around. On his right was a large metal knight, gazing coldly at him. On his left was a golden framed picture of an obese woman in a pink dress, apparently sleeping. He shook his head and began to walk forward, trying to figure where he was. But before his thoughts could come to him, a creaking brought him to. He glanced quickly to where the sound was coming from. The portrait of the fat lady had swung open, and Hermione was climbing out if it. Shutting the framed picture, she turned to him.  
  
"Malfoy!" She shouted, startled. "How long have you been here?"  
  
"Only a few moments, Granger calm down."  
  
"No, you didn't see..."  
  
"Yes, I saw, but does that make a difference? Passwords, remember? I don't want anything to do with your stupid common room anyway."  
  
"I can't believe this- how did you get here?"  
  
"Actually, Granger, I don't know. I stepped on a wrong stair...and here I am."  
  
"I'm going to kill myself."  
  
"Please do, then I'll be able to stop you and end this stupid bond."  
  
"Malfoy," She began, sitting. "There was no way out of that bond, and you know it. Either you died, or this happened. And you know you don't want to die."  
  
"Yes I do." He corrected, also sitting.   
  
"Why?" She questioned without thinking.  
  
"Why? You want to know why?"  
  
"No-" She said quickly.  
  
"Don't be so concerned with other people's affairs, Granger, remember they are their own."  
  
"Whatever." She mumbled. They both sat in silence, but it was surprisingly comfortable.   
  
"Remember what you said to me?" He started after a while. "In the library."  
  
"I've said a lot of things to you in the library."  
  
"Don't make me repeat it." She smirked.  
  
"I vaguely remember something. What about it?"  
  
"I think...I think I understand what your talking about." She gave him an extremely curious glance, widening her eyes. *Come to think of it,* Thought Draco, flashing an equally curious gaze. *Her eyes are quite nice.*  
*** 


	8. Learning How to Live

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Eight: Learning How to Live  
  
The darkness in the chilled room enveloped him like a blanket of tears. Little light from the moon shined through the window just above him, and created an eerie essence of evil as it danced across his pale face and traveled down his lips like a drop of water. He ran a palm over his cheeks and focused on his thoughts. He tried to retain the white image that had flashed through his mind.  
  
He scrunched his eyes tightly shut and concentrated. What he had seen that night in the forest had changed him, whether for worse or better he did not know, nor could he figure out. But it was true that when he had seen that curious figure, everything morphed. It was as if he could see things better, feel them better. Indescribable, really. It was like he were able to see things for the first time, and to understand them precisely. Almost like being a newborn child, it was, just being introduced to the world. Things seemed to make more sense, his very existence was now more palpable then it had ever been. As he thought about what he saw, he grew wiser without knowing it. Everything was different, things that seemed once pointless meant all the world. He seemed to understand things as if they'd always been there, yet he had just met them. All he knew was that the thing reflected in his thoughts had most certainly changed him, made him feel as if he knew what everything meant, down to it's last atom. Understanding was what he obtained. He seemed to forget about everything that had happened to him, to forget his horrid life, to even momentarily forget who he was when he saw that image. And that was what he'd always wanted.  
  
The dark grew even more hazy as a few specks of starlight flickered and died. He shook his head and ran a hand through his beautiful silver-blonde hair, rubbing his eyes. The darkness comforted him, for isn't that what it should do? One should not be afraid of darkness, for it washes away the errors of the world. Everything is the same when the light has dimmed. Problems are pointless to worry about until the morning. In the dark, one is safe, for they cannot see what is coming and try to change it. They must simply wait until the light has come to solve the problem, and forget for just a small bit of time what is worrying them. This, this theory of life was what Draco thought of when he saw that image.  
  
He bent his head backwards and let it hit the cool stone wall. It was around two o'clock in the morning, and the abandoned classroom was thick with silence. Draco had come here to think about everything that had occurred so far that year; His newfound love of Blaise, his becoming a death eater, his proposal by Voldemort to kill a perfectly good pure blood family, his encounters with...but they were all pointless. What was past was past, and what was to come must come. He wrapped his arms about his chest and shut his eyes once more.  
  
"Hello?" Came a soft voice from near the open door. Draco slowly ascended his eyelids and watched a shadowy figure dawdle hastily into the room, looking about curtly. He remained still, wanting no one to catch him this late at night. He guessed that if he could not see the figure's features, the person-or thing- would not be able to see his. Perhaps they'd think he was a desk or a stool.   
  
So he stayed rigid, trying hard not to allow his breath to make any sound. The figure sat upon the floor about three feet from him, and pulled out something from beneath it's robes. A book. It title reflected in the moonlight from the small window, and Draco caught what it was entitled. Smirking, he muttered,  
  
"Granger." The figure jumped, and the book flew out of her hands. Not wanting to allow any noise to be made, Draco caught the book just before it hit the ground.  
  
"Malfoy! Where- how? I didn't think anyone was in here." He shrugged, but she missed it. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I might ask you the same thing, Granger. I, after all, was here first."  
  
"You're so rude, Malfoy." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.   
  
"I'm thinking." He responded shortly.  
  
"As I. I couldn't bear to sit in the common room any longer. By the way, Malfoy, how'd you know it was me?" He shook his head and raised his eyebrows.  
  
"The title of the book told all. Who else would have taken out 'Debt by Death?'" She grinned and exhaled, amused.   
  
"Very smart, Malfoy." She teased. Noting the cold in the room for the first time, she embraced herself, shivering. After a moment, she mumbled. "It's frigid in here." Draco looked up. He sat forward and pulled his cloak off of his shoulders, not in the least bit cold.   
  
"Here-" He began, thrusting it towards her. She stared at it for a moment, as if not quite knowing why it was there. He threw it on the ground before her.  
  
"Alright, Malfoy." She began. "What've you done to it? You haven't put a flea charm on it, have you? I remember reading about that, and then how Neville came back to the common room with it last year, he didn't know it was his sweater, and oh...he was itching for days. None of us could stop it; I looked through hundreds of books to find the cure, it was horrible. I finally found it- Neville was so thankful and-"  
  
"No." He interrupted, his lips raised a small bit in what Hermione bet was the first true smile she'd ever seen him wear. "No flea charm. Nothing. I don't even know how to do a flea charm." She gave him a curious glance, and swept the cloak into her arms, draping it across her back. Algid though it was, Draco did not regret handing her his cloak.   
  
It was silent for about five or six minutes. But it was not the kind of silence that it felt wrong not to break, or felt uncomforting, but a silence that made Draco realize that he should live his life without regret, and to take things as they come. He shivered and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, an alien feeling creeping though his mind. So may emotions ran through his heart in those five or six minutes, it felt as if his chest were to explode. He now certainly was cold, and he wrapped his arms about himself as he exhaled with a stifle in his breath.  
  
"Oh, your cold..." Hermione started, beginning to pull the cloak from her shoulders and the hood from her head.   
  
"No-" He said quickly, pulling his hands from his arms. "I'm fine. Keep it." She gave him a worried look.   
  
"You'll get dreadfully sick. Let me at least-" She moved closer to him, landing only a few inches from his leg. "Body warmth will heat you right up. Is...is this alright?" She had turned to face him, her features only inches from his. Uncomfortable, Draco turned his head away and looked down upon his lap.  
  
"Yeah." He responded, happy to see she was turning back and looking upon her own lap. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his palms, rubbing fiercely. It had certainly been an interesting night. After a moment, a voice brought him to.   
  
"Where is she, my little one?" Came a ragged, cold voice.   
  
"Filch!" Whispered Draco, hushing Hermione. "Don't move." A small portion of light filled the door to the room as Filch stepped nearer with his lit wand outstretched before him. Both sat with their eyes wrenched open was Mrs. Norris crept into the room. She must have seen them earlier. After a brief second, Filch hurried into the room after her, an evil smirk playing on his lips.   
  
"Well, well. Look what we have here." He grinned rudely as Hermione and Draco looked at each other and swallowed. "I suppose a little visit with Professor McGonagall is in order, hmm? Stand up." He demanded. They both got to their feet a little shakily, stumbling as Filch grabbed them by their wrists. "Follow me." They left the room and walked just behind him, through corridors neither had ever seen. Hermione supposed that they were shortcut passageways that they'd never even dreamt over entering, but of course Filch knew them. All the while as they wondered, Filch muttered to Mrs. Norris things like, "I knew you'd find them, my love." and "You're all daddy ever dreamed of..."   
  
When finally they reached Professor McGonagall's office, their legs were so worn that they could hardly stand. Filch shoved them into the room, and they were greeted angrily by Professor McGonagall, complete with nightgown, cap, and pink bunny slippers. Draco stifled laughed and Hermione frowned.  
  
"Sit!" She ordered, both students immediately dropping unto the warm armchairs. "Explain yourselves. What were you doing out this late at night?"  
  
"Thinking." Responded Draco, sounding much like he had when he answered Hermione.  
  
"And you couldn't have done that in your own dormitory?" McGonagall asked, very cross.   
  
"Sorry, Professor." Both mumbled.   
  
"Miss Granger, I expected better from you. And Mr. Malfoy, you know the rules. You both will be serving a detention tomorrow night."  
  
"But Professor!" Hermione chimed in, looking eager and desperate. "Tomorrow night is the last of the break, I need to get to bed early so I can have energy in the morning."  
  
"Well, you should have taken that into consideration when you snuck out." She paused and looked about the room, motioning for Filch to leave. As soon as he had done so, she spoke again. "Your detentions, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, are very important. I've actually been hoping someone would break rules..." She sighed. "Since the beginning of the school year we've had an infestation of Goblins. No matter what we do, they manage to get into the castle. Hagrid has been keeping watch lately, and the poor man hasn't got any sleep. I would like you two to patrol the building tomorrow, and make sure no Goblins get in. Can you handle that?" They nodded silently. "Also, I would like you to stick together. Goblins can get tricky when you're alone. So take caution that your always together." Draco coughed and shook his head. "I mean that, Mr. Malfoy." She admonished sternly. "I'll send you word at breakfast tomorrow as to what time and where I shall ask you to meet. For now, go to bed. You've got quite a night ahead of you." Both stood and left the room, going their separate ways as they stepped through the doorway. They certainly did have quite a night ahead of them.  
***  
  
"Nice cloak, Hermione!" Gasped Ron, running a hand down the soft fabric draped over her shoulders. "Where'd you get it?"  
  
"I- I don't remember." She lied, scooping a large amount of pancakes onto her plate.   
  
"Well, you didn't have that yesterday." He exclaimed, cocking his head. "When we went outside you wore your other one."  
  
"I happen to like your new one better." Harry interrupted, grinning.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Frowned Hermione, scratching her nose. She had failed to tell Harry and Ron about her detention, not wishing to provoke their bad tempers when she explained that she'd be doing it with Malfoy, too. She planned to simply tell them that she was receiving a letter from her parents, and to say that she was going to the library later that evening. She sighed as the hundreds of owls swooped down from the ceiling, and a tawny landed before her. "Thanks." She mumbled glumly, stroking it.  
  
Miss Hermione Granger,  
Your detention will take place on the evening of the seventh of January, beginning at nine o'clock. Please come to my office at around 8:50 to receive further instruction. Good day to you.   
- Professor M. McGonagall.   
  
Hermione folded the note quickly back up and turned to Harry and Ron. "I've got a letter from my parents. Everything seems well."  
  
"That's good." Began Ron, shoving a load of cranberries into his mouth. Hermione looked up from her seat towards the Slytherin table where Crabbe and Goyle were punching each other, Blaise was looking murderous, and Draco seemed lonely. He stabbed his fork into his hash browns and pulled it out again, each time mutilating it even more than the last. He frowned and threw the utensil down, meeting eyes with Hermione. She did not take her face from his, and she motioned for him to come to her. He stood and did so, she also rising. Before he could reach her, Hermione quickly told Ron and Harry that she'd be doing some research in the library, and left the Great Hall. She stood outside of the great doors, leaning against a stone wall and watching Draco now come through the doors.   
  
"I forgot to give this back to you last night." She said softly, pulling his cloak off of her shoulders and handing it to him. He took it and chucked it over his neck.  
  
"I- I forgot to tell you something last night-" he began. But he was cut off by Ron bounding through the doors.   
  
"Hermione! Is he bothering you? I'll smash his face in." Hermione shook her head and turned to him.   
  
"I was giving him his cloak back."  
  
"Oh, that was his?" Said Ron maliciously. "So that's why I hated it so much. Why'd you have his cloak, anyway?"  
  
"He, er, dropped it yesterday. I found it, and gave it back to him. Right." Draco raised his eyebrows and shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips.   
  
"Oh." He stuttered curtly. "You said you were going to the library."  
  
"I am." She exclaimed, walking away.  
***   
  
"I can't believe I have to be stuck with you all night, Granger."  
  
"Well it isn't exactly a prize for me, being stuck to you. And you know something? You're bound to me, remember? You've got your whole life to be stuck to me. Why'd McGonagall pick tonight?" Draco sighed and looked at Hermione. Her cold, flushed cheeks complimented her pale skin perfectly, and her dark eyes wandered as if not knowing that he was inspecting her. She seemed different to Draco for some reason, like she had changed. He idolized her for a moment. She wasn't one of those people who was beautiful when one looked at her. She was quite plain and simple. But once one got to know Hermione Granger, knew the way she trembled when cold, knew the way her face lit when happy, knew the way her smile faded when hurt, once one knew those things about her, she was an entirely different person. A beautiful person. Draco turned his face away from her features, shaking his head.  
  
"Don't remind me." He said softly. They walked silently for a few minutes, staring down at their feet. So far, so good. No goblins yet. Hermione was very glad of this, for she had never seen a Goblin before. Although she had read much about them, she had never truly seen one in real life. And that was something Draco probably had experienced, being a pure blood.   
  
"What were you going to tell me down by the Great Hall?" She asked after a moment.  
  
"Nothing." He stated instantly, biting his lower lip. "Just- thanks, I guess." She gave him a happy, yet curious gaze, one side of her mouth raising in a bemused smile.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Not just letting me die." He muttered, his voice monotone. She grinned and rubbed her palms together.  
  
"You're welcome." She smiled. "You know, I never thought I'd see this side of you, Malfoy. It's so strange."  
  
"I bet you never expected I had a side like this, did you Granger?"  
  
"I think everyone has a good side. Some just hide it more than others."  
  
"Well, you know, Granger, people in Slytherin call my other side good. So it really depends on your definition of a good person that makes you think that."  
  
"I guess so." She answered, squinting her eyes and sneering at him. "And I guess..." She started, looking at her feet, "You're not as insolent as I thought you were. It depends on your definition of smart, doesn't it." Just before Draco could answer, the two heard a small groaning noise coming from an empty classroom down the corridor.   
  
"Goblin." Draco exclaimed quickly, dashing towards the room, followed by Hermione. At first, Hermione thought the Goblin to be a small pile of clothing or rags. But as she stepped in further, she noticed that it was a scrunchy little creature with a face like a pug and a body like a toad.  
  
"Eeech." Was her reaction. "That's a Goblin?"  
  
"Yep." He said poignantly, pointing his wand at it. It stood and waddled toward them, grunting and wheezing.   
  
"It's not very fast." She gasped quickly as it made it's way closer to Draco.  
  
"No," He agreed. "Naturally they aren't, but their very annoying." The creature was now pounding it's head against Draco's legs.  
  
"The way McGonagall told us, it sounded as if they were dangerous." She giggled, watching Draco trying to kick it off of him.  
  
"Yeah...when your alone they get more tricky, but as long as we stay together-" He paused and thrust his wand at the Goblin's pudgy arms. "Stupify." He muttered boredly, gazing at the creature as it fell to the floor in a dead feint. "Shove it into the sack, Granger. And hold it by it's feet, it's head's said to give you warts." She took it by it's feet and threw it into the large cloth sack that Professor McGonagall had given them. Draco then took the sack and flung it over his shoulder, triumphant in his defeat.   
  
They left the classroom happily, Hermione talking animatedly about how she'd thought that Draco used the wrong charm. "Shuttup, Granger." He snapped after a moment. "I know what I'm doing."  
  
"S-sorry." She mumbled, turning her face from his. They walked in silence for the next few minutes, Hermione now in a shrewd temper. She HAD thought that they'd been progressing, but a Malfoy was always a Malfoy, she supposed. "So." She began, hoping to find in him the Draco she'd seen earlier. "Who is that girl you always hang about with? I thought your only friends were those lugs Crabbe and Goyle."  
  
"Blaise," He started uncomfortably, not wishing to talk about the subject. "I've known her since I was a child. Her mother and father were death-" He paused, recalling who he was talking to. "Were friends of my parents. But when they left the dark- When they got in a...disagreement with my family, my father began to despise them. But Blaise and I still remained friendly."  
  
"It's so funny to hear you said 'friendly.'" She laughed, admiring the word. "Because you're not a very friendly person." He raised his eyebrows at her solemnly. "Sorry."  
  
"Anyway," He continued, wondering what it must have been like to hate him her whole life, "We've gotten rather close, but she's now angry with me."  
  
"Why?" Asked Hermione, surprisingly curious to hear the answer.  
  
"I'd rather not." He stated simply. She nodded and they continued to walk. It was growing quite dark outside, and it was now almost midnight.  
  
"I'll bet it must be nice to have someone to talk to." Hermione sighed, pulling her hair back.   
  
"It was nice. But she refuses to talk with me anymore."  
  
"Oh. I apologize."  
  
"Not your fault."  
  
"I know, but..." She had turned to him, and he to her, their faces closer than they had been the night before. Hermione swallowed and let out a smoky breath that rose into the air as his dark silver eyes inspected her. Her eyes, however, were cast down upon her shoes, though her head remained high. She closed them, not daring to look at him, as she felt the warmth of his breathing upon her face. He was so near to her, nearer then they'd ever been. The silence was palpable, velvet in it's smooth essence. She ascended her eyelids after a moment, wondering what he was doing. But he just stared at her, his beautiful eyes wide with interest, concern, and feeling. They were deep and passionate as they gazed directly at her face, watching her breath. They remained like this for a moment, until there echoed a deep groaning noise from a classroom close to them. They tore apart, Draco dashing into it. Hermione followed, her cheeks flush and her lips slightly ajar. But when she entered, the Goblin had already latched onto Draco.  
  
"Granger, do something!" She had left him alone for only a moment, and the Goblin had struck. She was ready to kill herself. The creature was bearing it's teeth at his arm, and it sunk them into it. He yelled, and motioned for Hermione to grab her wand. In doing so, she shouted, "Stupify!" The charm hit the creature, and it took it's tight clench of jaw from Draco's forearm. He was bleeding visibly, and as the Goblin fell from his grasp, Hermione rushed to his side.   
  
"You told me that I shouldn't have used Stupify." He mumbled weakly, his knees trembling. "Why did you use it?" She shone a worried smile at him.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"I'll be fine." He looked at her for a moment, then dropped to the ground. "Loss of blood." he muttered. Hermione looked about quickly for something she could bandage his arm with. She didn't know where they were, and the hospital wing had to be miles from where they were now.   
  
Not spotting anything, she tore the bottom from her robes and lifted Draco's sleeve. She began to dab the thick blood from his arm gently, feeling his shivers from beneath her. "You'll be alright." She whispered to him. "Don't worry." She cleaned the blood up as best she could, but as his skin shone through the clot of red, she noticed something black peer through. "Oh my..." She said softly, trying hard not to believe it. "So you are a death eater."  
** 


	9. Death on a Silver Platter

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Nine: Death on a Silver Platter  
  
"Hello, Draco." Came a cold voice from above him. He pulled open his crusty eyes and focused his vision upon the auburn-haired girl leaning over his bed. He slowly sat up and cleared his throat.  
  
"Blaise- Blaise, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Don't think I haven't noticed. Don't think WE haven't noticed."   
  
"Who? And what?" He questioned, massaging his arm. It looked as good as new now, and he wondered deeply why he was back in his own room, as opposed to the hospital wing. Last he remembered, Hermione was saying something to him. But it had turned dreary, and he must have feinted. Blaise shook her head and rubbed her forehead.  
  
"Everyone in Slytherin is talking about Hermione Granger."  
  
"Granger?" Draco whispered fiercely, turning to her as he spoke.  
  
"Yes. They've seen you hanging about with her, conversing with her more than natural, for God's sake, Draco, she had your cloak. I'd recognize it any day." She parted her lips as if meaning to say more, but exclaimed nothing.   
  
"Blaise, it's beyond anything either of us can imagine. Everything is normal." She was not convinced; she pivoted her face from his shrewdly and bit her lower lip.  
  
"I suppose you can explain this, then?" She said hotly, thrusting a thick book at him. "Granger waddled up to me this morning, touched her ghastly mudblood hand to my shoulder, told me that it wasn't worth being angry with you, and demanded I show you this. Take it, please. I don't want to be holding anything that was once hers, anyway." Draco lethargically took the book from her and read the glossy title.  
  
'Debt by Death.'  
  
"I-" He paused, then threw the book upon his bedside table. "There are some things even I don't know, Blaise." He barked quickly, narrowing his eyes. "Mark my words, I detest Granger now just the same as I have always, you have my word. Talk travels, no doubt. In a few days people will have rumors that say all sorts of nonsense about me, you know it. I know it." He nodded his head, raising his eyebrows and exhaling all at once.   
  
"How would Granger know that I was angry with you, Malfoy?" Blaise said, her words spilling from her lips as if she'd been wanting to ask this the whole time. "That is, if you say you hate her."  
  
"Well- I do...But you know- sometimes-" He turned from her and drummed his fingers upon his knees. "Last night, I had a detention with Granger. Some conversation was tossed about, that's all."  
  
"Conversation." She huffed, scoffing. "I was angry with you before, you know, and I still am. Don't act as if nothing occurred between us." She bowed her head. Remembering something suddenly, Draco wrenched himself from the bed and stood up. His body feeling heavier then ever, he called,  
  
"Blaise, I've just realized something. I really have to go!" With this, he flung the door open and dashed out of sight, still leaving Blaise open-mouthed and wide-eyed.   
***  
"It's really very simple, Ron." Hermione exhaled, annoyed. "You tap your wand THREE times upon the table, shout the charm, and then it will dance. Here, look." She whacked the long cedar wand against the desk before them, and yelled out a quick charm. The surface began to sway, then picked up speed before jiggling quite visibly across the room. "You then tap twice again, and it will stop."  
  
"I don't see the point of doing this." Said Ron shrewdly. "When will this ever be useful?" Hermione frowned, rapping her wand against the table and pushing it back into place.   
  
"Well take for example what you father does. He might need something like this." Ron raised his eyebrows as if to say that she was mad. Just then, a swift knock came upon the door. Tiny little Professor Flitwick dawdled over to it and swung it open.  
  
"Why Mr. Malfoy." He gargled. "What a...pleasant surprise. What is it that you need? You know, Slytherin's don't have charms until two-"  
  
"I need to borrow Granger for a moment."  
  
"That's Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy." Flitwick corrected. "And what business do you have here? Who sent you?"  
  
"Professor- McGonagall. Yes."  
  
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione stood, looking concerned, and stepped outside of the classroom. Draco quickly shut the door and gazed at Hermione.  
  
"You saw it, didn't you?"  
  
"Never mind that." Hermione began hotly. "Why did McGonagall send you?"  
  
"She- didn't." He paused. "But you did see it."  
  
"See what?" She answered, cross. "I don't understand what you're talking about."  
  
"You saw that cursed mark on my arm. That mark my father forced me to put there. That one that's going to decide who I am and who I become- now you know what I'm talking about, correct?" Hermione could not look him in the eyes.  
  
"Yes, I do. You know, I wasn't very surprised. After the way you've treated me all these years, it was barely a shock to me. If only you hadn't...spoken to me this year. If only you hadn't taught me things-"  
  
"What things?" He cut her off. He grabbed her forearm violently.  
  
"Let go of me." She defended, pushing him away.  
  
"What things?" He repeated, softer this time.  
  
"I don't know, really. I suppose that I never actually knew who I was until last night. Just before that goblin attacked you, when you just stared- I found myself. It was like a lost treasure, or something. But you must know. You've probably done that to a million people. Like...Blaise, for example."  
  
"What did she say to you?" He asked fiercely.  
  
"Nothing." She answered quickly, not meeting his gaze. "I assume she gave you the book?"  
  
"Yes. She did. She wasn't happy that she ran into you."  
  
"Did she- did she tell you anything else?"  
  
"Not really, why?"  
  
"If you wondered why you didn't end up in the hospital wing last night, maybe it was because...I cared for you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I didn't want Madame Pomfrey to see that- that thing on your arm. So I took you back to the Gryffindor common room, grabbed one of my books on magical ailments, and fixed your arm myself. I saw Blaise down at breakfast this morning, and since you were hidden in my four-poster with the curtains drawn, you weren't in a very safe place. I informed her of your injury, and asked her to please take you back to your dorm. She did so. Mind you, she wasn't willing, but she did so." Mouth slightly ajar, Draco stared.  
  
"You did that all so I wouldn't get caught?" He muttered, asphyxiating a look of sheer respect. He didn't want her to know that he found what she had done admirable.   
  
"I did, yes."  
  
"Even though my father and others like have killed your kind by the dozens?"  
  
"Put it that way, Malfoy, and you'll make me regret it."   
  
"You don't know how much bribery you've just given me."  
  
"I can't believe you can think of bribery when I've done everything in my power to keep you from being...killed, arrested, hated, expelled...you're still the despicable Malfoy I once and always will know."  
  
"Calm down, Granger, I was kidding." She loosened up a bit, but still looked angry. He paused, looking serious, and whispered. "Thanks." He looked up at her, smiling slightly, and took her hand. She pulled it back, releasing herself, and said softly,  
  
"And I don't know why I did any of it. I should be rejoicing for your expulsion, as well as the rest of the school. My friends, Harry, Ron, we should all be throwing confetti in our common room. But we're not. Everyone is oblivious. Except me." She turned her head slowly away. "And you know, I should have just let it all occur. But I can't. I mean, should I stop now, or should I go on helping you? Its not like you've done anything for me...ever...but I just can't let you leave me." She stopped abruptly, trying to correct herself. "I mean- I just can't let you leave. After all, you are a death eater. I should be furious. I should be turning you in to McGonagall as we speak. And why aren't I?" He attempted to continue, but could find no words.  
  
"Why aren't you?" Questioned Malfoy slowly, not taking his eyes from hers. But before she could answer, the door burst open. Flitwick stood before them, his stubby arms upon his hips, tapping his foot.   
  
"I think you've taken quite long enough." He demanded, pointing toward Hermione's seat. "Please come back inside now." Hermione nodded and entered the classroom, trying hard not to watch Draco's expression as she dawdled sadly back to her seat.  
***  
Draco,  
  
I will not deny that there is tension between us. Yes, it is true that in anger I threw you from your broom, that I let you plummet until you hit the cold floor of the forest, that I allowed you no mercy. But the same treatment will always be in order for you if you cannot comply with my directions. You see Draco, you are a death eater now, and you must agree with everything Voldemort says. You must dangle upon his words like vines to brick. Understand that without your cooperation, there will be much pain. My anger the other night was only a simple taste, hear me boy? I see that tomorrow night will be difficult for you, and that our pleasures are not shared, but once you get a taste of death, you'll want more, I can assure you. Don't allow petty differences and moralities get in your way of greatness. You could be great, you know. It's all in your mind, everything you need. You just need to know how to access it, and Draco, that's what being a death eater is all about.  
  
-Lucius.   
  
Draco took a deep, heartfelt breath and placed the letter silently upon his bedside table, blanketing 'Debt by Death.' Tomorrow night would decide his fate, for the following evening was to be the day that he was to kill that poor family. There was nothing about this that he could fine comfort in; he did not wish to kill any one, nor did he wish to betray his father. He rubbed his eyes and lied down slowly upon his bed.   
  
About his neck, he fiddled with a stout, silver chain. Upon it, two snakes entwined about an emerald stone danced coldly down his chest, delicate upon his flesh. It shone in the light from the window, painting his fingers silver as he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. It was elegant, yet manly; something he'd had since before his memory could take him. He often pondered its origins, and the thoughts comforted him. Had it been given to him by some peculiar Gypsy from Ireland, slipped upon his neck by an Icelandic Queen, or simply handed to him by his parents as a child? It was the only thing about him that was alien to himself, and the mystery intrigued him. It was a symbol that had bound him to Slytherin, much as the dagger had with Hermione. It had always given him a feeling of being different, and that was something he cherished.   
  
But then he remembered Hermione. The way her cheeks had blanched when she had seen him, the way she shuttered when she exclaimed that she had helped him; he found it hard to breath when she came to his mind. For she had helped him, and Draco had a feeling that this was not the end.  
  
He recalled her words; 'its not like you've done anything for me...ever...but I just can't let you leave me.' And so it was true. After all she had done for him, he'd done nothing to make it up to her that was worth anything. He'd been weak when she needed him to be strong, and he would not stand for being weak. It was time he took action, if not for himself, for her. Even for Blaise.  
  
He pulled a piece of parchment from within his robes and scribbled,  
  
Father,   
  
I cannot be your slave forever. You've been less that hospitable to me for many of my years, and when you ask me to do something that is against my will, I will not tolerate it. I will not kill people who might as well be innocent. My friend's parents were killed because of people like you, and I simply will not stand this injustice. Do not contact me any more here. Please, father, if there is anything you do for me that is mildly kind, let this be it. Do this for me father, just leave me alone.   
  
-Draco.  
***  
"Draco, wake yourself up. I cannot stand for this ignorance." Came a harsh whisper. Draco opened his eyes and found himself staring into the cold gray eyes of his father.  
  
"What are you doing here?" He retorted, his voice trembling audibly. "I told you, I am not going to agree with-"  
  
"Draco, I don't care. Stand up before I take some action." He sat up slowly, drawing the rope to his night robes about him more tightly, his vision blurry.   
  
"No."  
  
"You mustn't force this option upon me, boy. I do not like what you are doing."  
  
"And what am I doing?" He had torn the blankets from himself, exposing his pale skin to the fresh evening's air. It was dark in the dormitory, and moonlight shone softly in from the window next to Draco's four poster. "How did you get in, anyway?" He said quietly, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"You don't know much, do you?" Lucius admonished, a little more loudly then Draco thought was necessary, let alone intelligent. "We own a phoenix, boy, and they can pretty much take you wherever you please. Just because you can't see him, doesn't mean he's not there. In fact, he's waiting outside for us. And if you do not come, Draco, both he and I will get...ancy." With this, he let out a soft cackle, and drew out his wand from beneath his thick cloak.   
  
"Imperio" He demanded poignantly, sticking his wand at his son. Draco twitched, then stood, hearing a small voice in his mind that commanded "get up." As he did so, he growled at his father and managed to snarl,  
  
"You'll never get away with this, Lucius." And with this, he could see no more. His vision became unclear and things grew dark as his knees trembled and gave out, bringing Draco into a deep feint.  
***  
"You seem to be doing more sleeping than humanly necessary. Would you do me a favor and wake up?" Draco immediately awoke, brushing the damp locks of hair from his forehead, which had been plastered there by his own perspiration. He hadn't realized where he was yet as his crusty eyes blinked desperately to open, and his breathing became stifled and tense. "We are here. At the house of the Fredcooks, and you will get off of that phoenix now and draw out your wand. Obeying, he stood and pulled his wand from his pocket, trying desperately to say 'no.' He scowled at his father, attempting to break the horribly strong curse that had been forced upon him, and found he could not. "Now come here, son, and listen to my instructions. You will unlock the door- I take it you know the charm?- and sneak inside. I've seen to it that they are all asleep, dozing peacefully in their pitiful beds- I get so excited when this occurs- I haven't killed in some time." Lucius fervently looked around as if being watched, then turned back to his son.  
  
But Draco was not looking at his father, but at the house, in a way such that he seemed almost anxious to get inside. "That's my boy." Muttered Lucius, smirking in a way that could have frightened small children. Instead of an assertive response as Lucius had hoped, Draco swiveled towards his father and mumbled,  
  
"You're sick, and if you think I will fall for this awful trick of yours, you're horribly wrong."  
  
"Am I, Draco? Tell me-" but he cut himself off, and thrusted his wand at his son. "I know I've cast the cruciatus curse on you before. Don't force me to do it again."  
  
"I'm not forcing you to do anything, you pathetic excuse for a father." This struck Lucius where one should not?  
  
"Pathetic excuse for a- and have you ever considered that you aren't nearly the perfect son, either?" Spat his father, saliva flying from his lips as he spoke.  
  
"I've considered it." Draco nodded, climbing back onto the phoenix. But before he could ride off, a small voice in his mind said,  
  
"Draco, you can't leave. You must stay here and kill the Fredcooks. You know you want to kill them. It's been what you've always wanted, and you can't turn back now. Look at the mark upon your arm. Can't you see it? It will always be there. You cannot rid yourself of it; you are bound to it." Draco gasped and fell from the bird, landing shakily upon his feet.   
  
"I am not bound." He sputtered at his father. But Lucius was grinning uncontrollably now, and the gleam in his eye worried his son more than anything he'd ever seen in his father. He was not afraid of the cruciatus curse, but of his father. "I- I don't care what your stupid Imperius curse does to me- I do not. But I will never kill that family. Not one of them, not any of them. Understand me, father."  
  
"Draco, I want you to unlock the door and quietly go inside." As Lucius began to speak, all Draco could say was,  
  
"No, no, no, no-" Again and again. He repeated it even as his father continued.  
  
"I want you to go upstairs and go into their daughter's room. I want you to kill her, Draco, with any curse you can. I understand if you cannot use Avara Kedavra; I know you are not yet strong enough. Remember Draco, unlock the door, go upstairs-"  
  
"No, no, no..." Black wind began to swirl around the scene, making it morbid and cold. Draco could not find anymore words, yet he could not stop himself, although he tried with all his strength. He made his way towards the door, breathing heavily, attempting to fight off the curse.  
  
"That's it, boy, you've got it..."  
  
"I'll never forgive you for this, father." And with this, he pointed his wand at the scarlet door and whispered, "Alohomora."  
  
The house was dark and warm. But the cold from the evening's air wound around Draco, making him shiver. He shut the door in fear of being caught, and crept slowly up the stairs. He could not believe what he was doing. Though it was homely and warm, he grew frigid. He was frightened; frightened of what would become of him for the first time in his life, although he hated admitting this to himself. Of all the people he had contact with, he was the hardest to confront. Sure, there had been times when he was unsure, a bit uneasy even, but he had never been downright scared. And this new emotion found him and latched onto him, as if now it were here, it would never leave. Draco could not remember how any other emotion felt but fear; fear for his life, fear for what he'd do- and there was no stopping it. He was incapable of halting this horrible occurrence.  
  
He came to a dusty platform, where turned from a hall on either side. He chose the right one out of instinct, and silently stepped into the room nearest him with its door ajar.  
  
A small child slept soundlessly, it's chest rising and falling as it breathed, in a tiny pink bed that Draco swore was only large enough for a doll. The girl's hair was silvery blonde, much like his, and he shuttered as he saw his face upon the girl. What if it were him being killed? He drew out his wand without will. The little girl still slept on, oblivious to what was about to occur.   
  
Using logic that he hardly knew he had, Draco figured he'd use the cruciatus curse. Such a small child would not be able to survive the pain, and it was clean as a summer's breeze. Hesitantly, he brought his wand to her chest and whispered, "Crucio."  
  
A scream. A tangle of falling silver-blonde hair. A child falling to the ground, dying.  
  
Confused by his array of dreams, Draco Malfoy, perspirated and trembling, flung his eyes open and woke with a start.  
*** 


	10. Unpleasant Surprises

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Ten: Unpleasant Surprises  
  
The library was rather empty for a Friday evening. Perhaps it was because Draco hardly bothered to notice the crowds winding around him, but he sat in a daze as if not realizing where he was. He threw a book open that he had found upon a shelf entitled, 'Do Your Own Dream Interpretation.' By Wedlock Thorn, and began to read fiercely.  
  
"This is worthless!" He exclaimed aloud as someone took a seat beside him. He quickly closed the book, taking his time to turn to the person next to him. But after a moment he did so, and with a slight hint of disappointment in his voice, he muttered, "Hello, Blaise." But Blaise did not respond. She took his face between her palms, stared at him for a moment, then leaned herself into a long, passionate kiss. When she pulled away, she leaned her forehead upon his, hands still cradling his cheeks.  
  
"I can't believe you did that." She whispered, not noticing the small crowd of people that had gathered to stare. No one was much used to public displays of affection at Hogwarts. "I can't believe you'd do that for me."  
  
"What did I do?" He asked softly, his eyes closed.   
  
"That letter." She exhaled, smiling kindly as she wrapped her arms about his neck. "Your father sent you a letter this morning, and enclosed was the one you'd sent him. I apologize for reading it, but now that I have I'm so very thankful. You finally told him no, Draco. And you did it because of my parents. They died as martyrs for standing in what they believed in, and you stood up to your father in telling him so. I cannot thank you enough." She kissed him again, and he then finally pulled his forehead from hers. He embraced her and shut his book.  
  
"What did that letter from my father say, anyway?" He questioned worriedly.  
  
"I don't know if I should be the one to tell you. It's back in the common room if you ever wish to read it."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"Draco, I'm sorry I ever doubted what you said to me; it was just difficult with the death of my parents to realize that you weren't trying to harm my judgment after all." She grinned feebly at him, then took his hand and stood. "I can't stay here long. I've got a divination project that I need to begin. You're lucky you don't take it." He nodded and watched her exit through the door, oddly angry with himself.  
  
"I'm glad you finally have someone you can talk to, Malfoy." Came a meek voice. He swiveled around to face Hermione.  
  
"Yeah." Was all he could say. He had so many things that he wanted to tell her, yet no words could be found. He was utterly speechless, and he cast his eyes down towards the floor as the silence continued.  
  
"Yeah." She repeated, chewing on her bottom lip.   
  
"Listen," He started, drumming his fingers together. "We should talk."  
  
"About what, exactly?" She asked, sounding slightly harsher than Draco hoped she had intended. He slowly led her from the library and into the deserted corridor. He motioned for her to sit upon the ground as he himself did so. She sat uneasily next to him, and looked upon her lap.  
  
"I had a dream last night. It wasn't like most others; it was so very real."  
  
"And what does this have to do with me, exactly, Malfoy?"  
  
"The thing is- I'm not sure. I thought maybe you could help me."  
  
"Even if I could, Malfoy, why would I? Haven't I helped you enough? You've got to expect me to stop somewhere."  
  
"It's just that you're the only person who I can tell that won't get insane on me. Just listen to me for a minute, there's a lot I have to say." He paused, waiting for her recognition, and she nodded. "I never wanted to be a death eater. Well, that's not true. It used to be my only dream to become like my father- until last year.   
  
"He had come home on a Thursday night, a grim smile playing on his lips that I'd never seen before. He was unusually happy, and this was not like my father. He sat down in the dining room at one end of a long table, commanded a house elf to bring his food, and motioned I sit near to him. In doing so, he leaned over to me, and with a brief cackle, told me that Lord Voldemort had commanded him to kill my mother.  
  
"Don't get me wrong, Granger, my mother and I were never very close. I'm not a person that truly likes being close to people. But the fact that my father was proud that he would have to kill his wife was appalling. I left the room, baffled as to what I should do, and went into the cellars. There I escaped the Manor. I slept in the forests behind it for over a week, expecting that when I returned, I'd find my mother dead. I thought about nothing but where my life was leading me, and that's when I decided that something about the macabre art of being a death eater was not where I wished to go. It's kind of ironic, but before I knew that my family was so dark (this was when I was but a small child), I wanted to be an auror. I don't know, maybe that would be interesting." He concluded, watching an expression of concern forming on Hermione's face.  
  
"Then...why did you become a death eater?"  
  
"Force, and the unwillingness to being set under the cruciatus curse. When my father wants something, he gets it."  
  
"I'm really sorry, Malfoy. I would never have guessed." She looked uncomfortable, like she wished to say something.  
  
"You want to know what happened to my mother, don't you?" She again nodded with a sparse bob of her head. "Nothing. Apparently the message had traveled wrong to my father, and he was not expected to kill her. But he was fully prepared to, I can tell you. One does not argue with Lord Voldemort." He paused and looked about. "But the dream- it made me wonder." He told her about it. Everything from the death eater meeting in which Voldemort had demanded they kill the Fredcooks to the actual night of the dream. He explained his dream in detail, and when he finished, Hermione's eyes were so wide it was as if she'd swallowed a cockroach cluster whole.  
  
"I would have been frightened out of my mind." She told him promisingly.   
  
"But what does it mean?"  
  
"I'm not sure. All I know is, it's horrid as to what goes on in those meetings. I can't even begin to imagine how palpable death is near Voldemort." Draco moved his eyes up and down her face. It was so simple, yet something within it held a reflection of beauty. He stared. "I never realized that you were so complex. I always thought you were just a stupid Slytherin with no feel for anything; that all you thought about was cruelty."  
  
"That's not so far from the truth." He admitted, biting his lip. "I've been raised by a self-absorbed man and that is what I've become."  
  
"Don't say that, you've certainly changed my mind." She put her hand upon his knee. Startled, he inhaled shakily and placed his palm atop hers. They stayed like this for a moment, until Draco suddenly stood and declared,  
  
"Blaise. She's probably waiting for me."  
  
"Oh, right." She answered, also standing. "You've got Blaise now."  
  
"Yes. I've got Blaise now-" He paused, turned, and departed. Hermione sparsely waved after him, then turned to make her way towards the Gryffindor common room.  
***   
Dusk came like a leaf caught in the wind. It happened so suddenly that Hermione hardly had time to realize that it was growing quite dark outside. Though the Gryffindor common room had no windows, the air grew dense: the perfect feature of evening. The candles, though they all glowed brightly, seemed to dim as night fell upon the castle. Hermione sat in the common room, her arms spread out over a large wooden table, spilling through rolls of parchment. She nearly always did homework to get things off of her mind.  
  
Slowly, someone approached her. Hardly caring, she continued her work and did not look up. "You've been doing a lot of hanging about with Malfoy, Hermione." Came an uneasy voice from the shadows. Ron emerged, his fingers entwined and placed over his stomach. "We're bloody worried."  
  
"Well you shouldn't be." She snapped, rolling up a sheet of parchment. "Because Malfoy and I are the same as ever, I can swear it." She wasn't trying to lie to Ron so much as herself. She did not wish to believe that anything was different. Malfoy would always be Malfoy. Granger would always be Granger. Slytherin would be Slytherin, Gryffindor would be Gryffindor. And the two houses would never get along, because that was the way it was always done, such as a tradition.   
  
"He isn't- bothering you, is he? I'll smash his face in if he is."  
  
"No!" She began quickly, not really knowing to which part of Ron's speech she was opposing.  
  
"Well, all right. If you're okay then..."  
  
"Ron, I'm fine, really. I've just had a lot of thinking to do lately, that's all."  
  
"Like, about?" He sat beside her, looking very shaken up. She glanced at him, then back down at the surface of the glossy table.   
  
"Like Voldemort, for one. I have a feeling he's behind something. I just wish there were something we could do to stop him."  
  
"Of course you do, Hermione, we all do. The fact is no one will be able to by themselves- maybe not even an army of wizards."  
  
"And witches." She added, frowning.  
  
"And witches." He repeated. "I just don't see the point in worrying over it. You're safe here at Hogwarts."  
  
"But what if there are death eaters here? Honestly, Ron, you think Voldemort hasn't thought of that?"  
  
"Maybe, but there's nothing much they can do without Voldemort with them, and he can't get into this place; we've got Dumbledore."  
  
"I suppose." She sighed. But she had more to worry about then her own safety. If Voldemort smelled betrayal after Draco refused to kill the Fredcooks- someone else's safety might be in danger.  
***  
He had Blaise now. What a complete waste of breath. Blaise had not been there when he had needed her most, and now that she had returned to him, he didn't need her anymore. She had chosen to leave him to wither. If she were such a close friend, why would she do such a thing to him? Angrily, he barked "Salazar" at the entrance to the Slytherin common room and made his way down the winding, dank stone stairs.   
  
He didn't want Blaise anymore. He didn't know what he wanted. It was all the more confusing that he had just told a story of his life to his hated enemy, and Blaise's sudden and random change of heart was not guiding him. More then anything he felt angry; the timing was horrid, the place was horrid, the situation was horrid. He wanted nothing more than for life to be like it had been a year ago, when things such as relationships and his career were not so important. Back then, even his father was extraneous, and left him well alone. He was sick of life, and more specifically the people in his life. If he could go through the years without any human contact, maybe his thought process would be much clearer.  
  
He didn't know if he was furious, confused, or depressed, but what he did know was that nothing anyone could say or do would change the fact that something inside him had just activated. He was filled with concealed hatred towards Voldemort, and pretentious hatred of Hermione. Maybe he had been wrong all these years about her. Maybe she wasn't the stupid, filthy mudblood he once degraded her as. She was possibly the only one that could save him from exile. For she had listened to him when no one else had, and showed him that morality is not always perfect. But he wasn't sure if he admired her or detested her for this.  
  
Should he continue with the way things always had been, and show her that he was still a heartless Slytherin? Or should he prove everyone wrong? As a Slytherin, he knew rumors had been spread about him; things like he killed every muggle-born he laid his fingers on, things such as the fact that he was becoming more vile than his own father. This rather aggravating form of gossip did not truly bother him until he thought of what Potter and Weasley might be saying to Hermione.   
  
The question was: if he truly despised the change that had occurred between their fifth and sixth years, why didn't he just return to being his naturally rude and nasty self? And the answer was simple, although this was the last thing he wished to admit to himself: because something in that pathetic no-blood called Granger had changed him. Something about what she'd said that day in the library made him realize that his life of dissimulation was seemingly completely consequential. Nothing about the way he insulted and nagged was relevant in his life. And the way that she had put the preceding statements so beautifully and with such a strong point made Draco understand that he was not with the right guild.   
  
He wanted to be there if she needed him; to show her that he was not the Malfoy she thought he was. He was angry that she'd think him to be such a distasteful person. He had to prove her wrong.  
  
In mid-step, he stopped, smirking slightly. He was being powerful and strong, even when he was trying to prove himself humble. He now remembered why he was a Slytherin, and was certainly proud of it. Even when attempting to show someone that he was caring, he had to promote the fact that she had been wrong. His smirk died as he entered the common room.   
  
Ablaze, the emerald room looked like a placid forest at sunset. As he did every evening, he idolized it for a brief, yet longing moment, then made his way over to a plush, evergreen couch and threw himself upon it.  
  
"You don't seem yourself ever since you've been talking with that...that Granger girl. That's her name, isn't it? There's nothing wrong, is there? She's putrid and annoying- isn't there anything you can do to rid yourself of her? She cares too much about your well being, and I say that's not healthy. Did I tell you she made me take you back into the common room? It was disastrous how worried about you she seemed. Egh, if I were you, I'd give her a piece of my pure-blood mind." Blaise finished, sitting beside Draco. "You're sure to have some of those old tricks up your sleeve." She sneered, resting her elbow on his shoulder. Draco nodded, too deep in thought to answer. "But don't worry." She began quickly. "Nothing can get in our way." Shining a bright, mysterious and evil grin, she brought her arm back to its side. "Seriously, you're all right, aren't you?"   
  
"Yeah- the endings of the holidays are usually tedious. January is just a month for thought, that's all."  
  
"Oh, sure." She agreed, bobbing her head. After a pause, she started again. "Hey, Draco, listen. I haven't go anywhere to go this summer. After all, my only other family lives in Copenhagen, and no one is really willing to come here. I'm not going to leave London; it's always been my home and will remain my home. When I'm eighteen, I want to go work for the ministry and get a place of my own, but for now-" She trailed off, looking hopeful. As if not quite knowing what to say, she began once more, "The Manor is very large, right? Well, there's probably extra rooms in it, and since they aren't being used-"  
  
"I'd like to say that you could come and stay, Blaise, but you read that letter. I'm not going home after that. I don't really know where I'm going to go, either. Maybe with one of those great lugs, Crabbe or Goyle."   
  
"Draco," She breathed in a slightly more alarmed tone. "If I don't find somewhere to stay, they are going to force me to move to Denmark with my relatives. You've got to help me." Nothing about this statement, oddly enough, seemed to disturb Draco. He shrugged, and instead of being panicked as she, bit his lower lip and tilted his head, his silver-blonde hair hitting his cheek.  
  
"You'll find something." She embraced him tightly at once, placing her chin on his shoulder.   
  
"I won't leave you; they can't make me." Draco, feeling slightly guilty, hugged her back, then pulled away. "If they do I will run away. I'll come and find you- we can go abroad and find a place to stay-"  
  
"Blaise! You're getting way ahead of yourself. You'll find somewhere. Do you understand me?" She nodded and massaged her forehead.  
  
"I still sometimes forget that they're gone. It's just a sudden instinct I have all the time- 'hey! Why don't I owl mum today?' or, 'I should send dad a birthday gift.' it's strange how life works out. Now that everything is different, things somehow seem clearer." Draco could not nearly say the same thing. In the change, he had become even more confused. "Sometimes you can't really see things plainly until you admit to yourself that something certainly is different, even if it is for the worst."  
  
"Yeah." Was all Draco could manage to choke.  
***  
After a long night of tossing and turning, Draco flung himself up from his sheets in a cold sweat. He had dreamt something new- he saw a cold face and felt so much pain; it was more like reality than a nightmare. He shivered and drew the covers more tightly around his sleek body, sheltering his pale and beautiful complexion from his view. Nights seemed so long recently.   
  
He slipped back down into the bed and shut his eyes, placing his head upon his feather pillow. As he was about to fall into a slumber, a small draft brought him to his senses. He sat up as slowly as he could, and after a moment, realized that the curtains to his four-poster were now open.  
  
"Who's there?" He questioned softly. No response came. He shrugged and shut the curtains, lying back down.  
  
"Leave those open." Came a hushed voice. "You and I have to talk." Startled, Draco drew the curtains open and peered out into the darkness.   
  
"Father-" He gasped, as Lucius came into his vision. He was deeply reminded of his dream. "What are you doing here? I told you never to contact me-" Lucius's fowl grin broadened.   
  
"You don't remember. No, I didn't think you would."  
  
"What are you talking about? No- don't answer, just get out of here. I'll yell for someone, I'm warning you." Lucius shook his head, his smirk never fading.   
  
"You can go ahead and do that, boy, it won't do you any good."  
  
"You don't think I'll do it, do you? IMPOSTER!" He screeched suddenly, and immediately the grunts of Crabbe and Goyle came, as well as a candle flickering on.  
  
"What's going on here?" Muttered Goyle, half-sleeping. Draco looked about the room. Lucius was no where to be seen.  
  
"He was just-"  
  
"You're going mad, Draco." Huffed Crabbe, snuffing the candle out and lying back down. Perhaps he was going mad, he thought. After about 10 minutes of sustained silence, he decided that he must have just been so paranoid that he started seeing things. He paused, listening, then lied back down.  
  
"Not so fast. Like I said, we have some discussing to do." He sat up violently. "Don't make me do that again, Draco." Said Lucius, opening the curtains and staring down at his son. "I'm not fond of disappearing."  
  
"How did you do that?"  
  
"I can do many things that you aren't aware of. Just a trick of Lord Voldemort- though I dare say a select few who are not dark can do so. That Dumbledore- I'm positive he can. Anyway, we should be off to that meeting." Draco wanted to ask how Lucius had gotten into the school, but he already knew the answer. By phoenix.  
  
"What meeting?"  
  
"You didn't read my letter did you? Well here's a brief summary: We have a meeting tonight, I told you to meet me at the astronomy tower. When I flew by on Jax, I didn't see you, so I came inside. Just a few, simple charms. It's not so hard, really. Those ministry members make it sound like it's impossible to do." He cackled to himself. "And I sent you back your letter- I didn't want it in sight. So, get dressed and let's head off to that meeting."  
  
"No." Lucius frowned.  
  
"No? You really are stubborn lately. I don't find this amusing, boy. Get up."  
  
"No." He repeated, steadier this time.  
  
"Then you leave me no choice- Imperio."  
***  
"Another meeting, men. Only one thing is on my mind that I wish to discuss with you: your assignments. Perhaps I shall give you more, if I like the job you've done. Hendrickson!" A tall man with platinum-blonde hair fidgeted. "I told you to get rid of the Fangthorn's, did I not?" The man nodded. "And did you?" Slowly, he shook his head. "That's too bad..." He sighed. "I truly liked you. Avara Kedavara!" Quickly, the man crumpled and fell from his chair, immediately dead under the curse. "Anyone else?!" Voldemort roared.   
  
"My Lord." Lucius spoke. "The Fredcooks are finished with."  
  
"Yes, that's laudable, Lucius. Very meritorious indeed. I applaud you." Apparently, so did some of the others. Muffled clapping came from around the circle of death eaters, giving Lucius the glory he wished for. He simply loved to satisfy Voldemort. "You and the boy have done a wonderful job with everything. Everyone is gone? Even the daughter?"  
  
"Yes. Gone. Done away with. It was generous, Lord Voldemort, for you to allow us such a gallant task. I thank you."  
  
"Mmm." He mumbled, peering around. "And that is why you are here. You shall each receive a small gift from me. Lucius, step forward." Doing so, he entered the center of the circle where Voldemort stood. "You have so many powers...let me see..." He twirled a thin wand between his fingers. "Then I shall give you the power to see into people's thoughts. It may at times become confusing, so I shall also give you the power to control your listening ability. You may turn this off and on as you please. Come forward, closer." Lucius had now bent upon his knees and was deeply thanking Lord Voldemort. "Yes, yes. Stand up, Malfoy, if you really want this power." He stood. Lord Voldemort place his wand atop Lucius's head and whispered the word, "Vedrai" into the cold night's air.   
  
Draco was sick of the Dark Lord's despotic behavior. He did not find his "gift" very generous at all, but a mere reminder of all of Lucius's bad deeds.   
  
Draco supposed that Lucius was lying to Lord Voldemort so he would not get into any trouble. For like he had seen, if the Lord found out that Draco had not done any work, he would most certainly be punished. Although he knew that his father did not care for him, he knew that he wanted a Malfoy heir in the Dark Arts. But still, Draco found it oddly offensive that he was being lied about in order to sound like a worse person. That simply seemed immoral.  
  
"Draco, please step forward." Draco walked up to Lord Voldemort and bowed, not wishing to be charged with any felony.   
  
"Thank you, my Lord." He muttered.   
  
"Draco, I shall give you the power to disappear without any garment. Kneel." He knelt, and Voldemort placed his wand upon Draco's right shoulder. He then brought it to the left, then back to the right, as if knighting Draco. "Ytilibisivni." He exclaimed softly. A rush of warm blood danced through Draco's veins. "Now, whenever you wish to disappear, you concentrate on something that calms you for ten seconds. Then, when you wish to reappear, you think of something in which you despise for another ten seconds. Enjoy this, Draco, and use it to the best of your ability." Draco nodded and stood, once again thanking Voldemort. "You two are dismissed."  
  
Draco had been off of the Imperius curse since they had arrived, but he still felt controlled. He did not wish to be anywhere near the area that he was in, and he almost immediately jumped upon his broom.   
  
Father and son rode in silence for at least a half of an hour, until Draco asked softly, "Why did you stick up for me back there? I thought you hated me."  
  
"Stood up for you?" Questioned Lucius loudly, wind rushing through his words and making them hard to understand.  
  
"You let Voldemort think that I killed someone." Lucius let out a small, amused cry.  
  
"Well, what did you think happened last night, you dreamed the killing of that little girl? You may have been under the Imperius curse, but I hardly thought you'd not remember your first killing. A spectacular show, Draco, it even made me feel proud."  
*** 


	11. Take My Hand, and Lead Me to Salvation

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Author's Note: Once more, I must add a disclaimer to my chapter title. It is a lyric from the finale in Les Miserables, and though I hate to admit it, I don't own that play. *Sigh.* Again, I thought it fit well with the chapter. One more thing; I've gotten a few questions on if this story is ending any time soon. I expect that Bound will be from about eighteen to twenty-two chapters, give or take a few. I also anticipate a sequel for the story, and I will most likely begin that when I end this story. Thanks once more for your support. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter Eleven: Take My Hand, and Lead Me to Salvation.  
  
'I have never been beautiful. Never free, never perfect. I strive for innocence and with it, guilt reigns. I have been deceived, conquered, dominated. I've always been alone. Solitude never seems to bond with friendship, but for me it somehow has.   
  
I've never believed in luck. Sure, things come along right some days, but- I don't know. I've never thought luck could be real. Instinct.   
  
Am I lucky for finding what I did? Have I found a miracle? Immorality. I am alone again.'  
  
Hermione Granger drew her quill from her diary and shut it slowly. The series of events that had occurred within the last few months could hardly be summarized in any number of words. Everything so far had made her feel impotent, and in some sense this was true. She felt farther then she ever had from Harry and Ron, and this frightened her. It wasn't that she wished for it to be this way, no, that was far from the truth. She felt that the simply could not express the year's events to them without worry.  
  
A Hogsmeade weekand was coming up shortly, and she prayed that this would temporarily take her mind off of things. Perhaps, for once, she could focus on her true friends: what were really important. Standing, she stretched and tucked her journal underneath her arm. The common room was nearly empty, for the hour was late and most Gryffindors had gone off to bed. She turned and headed up the circular, winding stairs and into her dormitory. The warmth of the room was welcoming, and she slipped into her four-poster at once, throwing her journal upon the bedside table.   
  
After a few moments, she drifted into a slumber. For the first night in seemingly a long while, she had not a single dream.  
***   
The corridors were dense with thick air and deserted. The coming day played upon the castle like a bow to violin, and the cold January oxygen refreshed Hogwarts students. Hermione was making her way to breakfast, yawning tiredly and pulling her sandy locks over her shoulder. For a brief moment, her solitude was pleasing, and she smiled as she gazed down the empty hallway. Not expecting it, someone seized her from behind.   
  
"Malfoy- what's the matter with you? Don't sneak up on me like that!" She gasped.   
  
"No matter...we have to talk. Something is not right. Will you listen to me?"  
  
"Can't it wait 'till after breakfast?" She questioned, cringing as her stomach acids danced.   
  
"No!" He cried, roughly grabbing her by the arm and leading her quickly in the opposite direction. "You don't understand! Hell, I don't understand." He led her into an empty classroom and slammed the door shut. Immediatley, he flung himself onto a desk and sat upon the surface. She joined him in a seat next to his, and bit her lower lip.  
  
"Make this quick. I have a lot to do today, and I'm certainly not willing to waste my only free part of the day on some silly notion that Blaise despises you."  
  
"Granger- you haven't let me say anything. It's not Blaise. My God, I never even worried about telling Blaise. You aren't permitting me to speak." She raised an eyebrow and flipped her palm outward as if signaling him to continue. "It's not like I had control, right?"  
  
"I haven't a single clue as to what you mean. Just get on with it."  
  
"I think I did something horrible." He breathed, sheltering his face in his palms and rubbing violently. "I mean- I know I did. Or else Voldemort would not have let me live."  
  
"Malfoy, what are you talking about?"  
  
"Last night, my father came into the castle. He's got enough powers to, anyway. I awoke to him peering at me from over my bed. He told me that we had a meeting to attend, but I refused. He cast the imperius curse on me."  
  
"Like your dream..." She started, inhaling slightly and placing a her thumb over her lips.  
  
"So I went. And Voldemort applauded me for killing that family. Of course, at the time, I thought my father was just telling him a lie so I would not be brutally murdered. But then on the way home, I questioned my father. And- and he told me that I did kill that little girl." He paused, his silver-blonde hair perfectly framing his preposessing face, and his silver eyes flickering as they focused on Hermione. She sat still, her breath not audible.  
  
"You killed a child?" She whispered after an elongated moment. "An innocent little being- how could you?"  
  
"I tried to fight it-"  
  
"How could you!?" She repeated, more frantic this time. "You should have tried harder, you insolent Slytherin! Harry fought off the imperius curse, why couldn't you! You're always saying you're better than he, no? Well I think your horrible. If you really wanted to save that child, you could have. You're no less of a stupid little muderous prat than you ever have been! I can't believe I doubted that."  
  
"Granger, I told you, I didn't want to kill her! I've been trying to tell you all along! Maybe your just the insolent Gryffindor know-it-all you've always been! I tried to tell you calmly, I asked for you to listen. Of course, I should have known. Gryffindors don't realize there always will be death in the world. There always will be murder and crime and deluge! There always will be rivalry and pointless hatred! There is always going to be an evil side, and there is nothing, NOTHING you worthless little creatures can do about it. Nothing I can do, nothing you can do. We are bound to a pathetic, miniscule fate. One person can't change everything, you know!" He yelled, jumping from the desk.  
  
"One person can go as far as their heart will carry them, even if they have to try harder then they ever have before." She began, much more calmly, and stepped slowly out of the room.  
  
"I should have known you were just as heartless as you were all these years."  
  
"Heartless?" She questioned, peering back into the classroom. "You're calling ME heartless?" He narrowed his eyes and inhaled menacingly. "You truly are nothing but a filthy rogue. You have a nice day." She then turned to leave.  
  
Instead of heading in the direction of the great hall, she swept herself towards Professor McGonagall's office, mumbling harsh words to herself and trying to ignore that large lump that seemed to be creeping it's way up her throat. She found herself in front of it, determined to tell her house headmistress about everything that had gone on. She needed to tell someone, and McGonagall seemed the best one to eject her thoughts to. Draco would be gone before she could say the words "Death Eater." She put her clenched fist to the door and knocked three times.  
  
It was a long shot. Professor McGonagall could have been down eating with the rest, but Hermione didn't want to go to the great hall. She had suddenly lost her appetite. "Hello, Miss Granger. This certainly is a surprise. What is it? I didn't see you down at breakfast- it's over, I hope you know." She nodded, attempting to blink away the moisture that was dancing in her eyes. "Is everything alright?" Professor McGonagall questioned softer, looking concerned.   
  
"Professor... Draco Malfoy is-" She opened her mouth to continue, but nothing came out. She simply did not have the power or courage to tell her headmistress anything.   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"He's-" She tried again. Nothing. "He's not doing very well in school, and I think he needs a tutor." Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow.   
  
"This I've never seen before. Inter-house ties? I thought the day would never come. I'm happy your concerned with him, Miss Granger. It's difficult to find witches or wizards like that these days. May I suggest to closer tie the Slytherin and Gryffindor house, that you become the tutor?"  
  
"Me, but Professor-"  
  
"Thank you, Miss Granger! This is a wonderful idea. Perhaps we can make relations stronger within our house. You can meet him every Friday evening at five o'clock in the library. I'll see to it that the arrangements are made. You'll both be sent owls. What a wonderful idea; ten points to Gryffindor!" Hermione thanked her professor and bit her lip. That wasn't what she meant to tell McGonagall. She wanted to find the courage to simply tell her the truth, to end her rivalry with Malfoy forever, to put a stop to the insanity. But as he had said, one person cannot make a difference... "Now, is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"  
  
"No." She whispered after a pause, the lump traveling farther up her throat. "Nothing."  
***  
The day of February the second was sunny and crisp. Winter birds flittered through the trees like geisers, the snow fell lightly from the sky, and the deep smells of winter penetrated the air thickly. It was a splendid day in the village of Hogsmeade, where the scent of fresh bread lingered in every shoppe window, the sights of the white-capped moutains swirled through the visitors' vision, the streets were full of cloaked and merry folk, and the day seemed nearly perfect. A fresh winter breeze danced through Hermione Granger's hair, and she laughed as it tickled her flush cheeks.   
  
"It's wonderful out today, isn't it?" She asked her friends, whom nodded gingerly in agreement. "I can't believe how perfect it is. Nothing could be better." She smiled, drawing her hood up. "I've got some Valentines shopping to do. Does anyone want to accompany me to Honeydukes?"  
  
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about Valentines." Ron began, stopping to snigger. "Hey Harry, I know who you'll be getting a chocolate frog from." He teased.  
  
"Oh shuttup." Harry demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Pausing to comtemplate something, he started slowly, "Do you think I should get Cho some candy? Maybe some pumpkin pasties; I know she likes those. I saw her eating one at quidditch practice." Ron rolled his eyes and crinkled his forehead.   
  
"I think you'll pull yourself into something totally pointless." Coughed Ron. "But you can go ahead, I'm sure you don't value my opinion." They pulled down their cloaks as they entered the warm shop, Ron massaging his very pink, cold ears.   
  
"It's Valentines day, Ron. Don't be so stuck up." Hermione grinned, inspecting a box of glow-in-the-dark toffees. "I think Pavarti would like these." She said sharply after a moment. "Anything that makes her more radiant will simply please her." Harry chuckled briefly. Ron frowned.  
  
"You girls are so concerned with your looks. It's a wonder I'll never understand." Hermione tilted her head and gave him a sarcastic grin.  
  
"Well, I'm buying them." She noted, pulling a box from the shelf. They wandered Honeydukes for about a half of an hour, chatting and conversing about ideal gifts for their friends. In the end, they had made a few purchases and were growing famished. Hermione hoisted her full bag over her shoulder and clicked her tongue. "I almost forgot about Dobby and Winky!" She cried, gasping as she nearly dropped her purchases.  
  
"Don't tell me-" Ron started, but he was cut off by Hermione's concerned jesture. "I can't believe you're going to get them gifts, but it's your money." She raised her eyebrows and stepped out of the shoppe. Harry was fixing the bow on Cho's gift of chocolate firebolts, and squinting to make sure it was perfectly straight. "I'm surrounded by obsessive twits." He sighed jokingly, and pulled up his hood.  
  
"I think I'll go the the sock shoppe after we get a butterbeer. Lavender told me that they have ones with little hearts on them that kiss your feet- I think Winky would like those." Hermione told herself, her arms folded over her chest. They entered The Three Broomsticks, Ron jabbering animatedly about the fact that Valentines day was overrated. Hermione secretly agreed.   
  
They sat at a small table, draping their snowy cloaks over the back of their rickety wooden chairs and looking around at the comely surroundings.  
  
"Ah, you can never have a perfect day, can you? There's Malfoy over there with that git Zambini...and I thought I was having a good day." Ron sighed dramatically and shook his head, his flaming hair bouncing as he did so. Harry growled and exhaled, looking at Hermione.  
  
"I could just go over there and tell Malfoy he's a slimey toad right now." Harry cried, exasperated.   
  
"Just ignore them." Hermione said quickly. "I'll get the butterbeers." She stood, craning her neck over to Draco's table. He looked very joyous, thus making Hermione feel even more sick. Malfoy was simply a slimey toad, just as Harry had said. She narrowed her eyes and slowly made her way over to the bar, where a new busboy to the cafè was polishing a glass. "Three butterbeers, please." She told him softly, and he nodded.   
  
She sat upon the barstool to wait, staring hopelessly up at the charmed ceiling fans and coughing when she heard Malfoy's voice from behind her.  
  
"Move it, mudblood." He demanded, a fierce expression entwined in his lips. "You don't half deserve to be here. If I were you, I'd drag my filthy self into the street and wait to be run over by a carraige."  
  
"You're the filthy one, Malfoy!" She whispered, attempting to talk soft enough so that Harry and Ron could not hear her. "Even if it wasn't your fault as you say, couldn't you have found the courage in your heart to stop it? Or do you not have a heart?" His eyes widened.  
  
"How dare you tell me I have no courage, you stupid, disgusting little weakling! You would have boiled under the Imperius curse- don't you talk to me about courage. I confront Lord Voldemort himself on a bi-weekly basis, Granger, and you do nothing! Nothing! And perhaps you've realized, if theres anything my father has taught me, it's that having a heart is a weakness. When I showed you all I could, you stomped all over it! So don't you say I don't have a goddamn heart." Hermione upturned her nose and threw her hair over her shoulder.   
  
"Your heart is as cold as black ice. I hope that someday it backfires in your face." She tapped her foot, wondering when the busboy would return. "I may have not told McGonagall yet, but someday, I shall." She shut her eyes quickly, then turned her head from Draco's face.  
  
"You wouldn't have the soul to do it. Because no matter how hard you try to do the right thing, you can't. And you want to know why? Because you've never experienced the world. I have. And I know it's full of pain and suffering and death and hatred, and I deal with it. But like I said before, you can't change anything, because that's the way the world will always be."  
  
"You're- you're an awful person. I just hope you know that." He snarled at her as she claimed the drinks the busboy had just brought her and returned to her seat.  
  
"Was Malfoy bothering you?" Harry asked. Hermione tried to answer, but the lump in her throat was returning. She shook her head and carefully sipped at her warm butterbeer. Harry and Ron began to talk about quidditch. Not interested, Hermione turned her vision away from them and focused on Draco's table, just as he was returning to it with two butterbeers. Blaise thanked him and took it.  
  
"Was Granger pissing you off again, Draco? Because I know a few charms that could-"  
  
"Just being a stupid mudblood. You know how they are." Hermione could hear them exclaim.  
  
"She's pathetic, Malfoy, don't worry about her." Blaise leaned over to him and embraced her palms over his face. She kissed him deeply for about a minute, then returned to her drink. "Is there something on your mind?" She asked, thoughtfully staring at Draco. He was looking dull and melancholy, and his pale, thin lips were twisted downward in a tranquil way.   
  
"No, there isn't anything. Thanks, Blaise." They kissed again, and as they pulled apart the attractive brunette smiled.   
  
"I always forget how good you are at that." She laughed softly, smirking slightly. Hermione, disgusted, turned back to Harry and Ron.   
  
"Putrid." She exhaled, frowning. Although she promised herslef she did not care, something inside of her felt strongly incomplete.  
***  
Valentines day came very quickly, perhaps more quickly than anyone in Hogwarts would have liked. Gifts were being thrown about everywhere, puse robes could been seen scattered all about students in the hallways, and singing melodies echoed down the corridors between classes. Hermione personally could not wait until the end of the day, after classes were over.   
  
It was a dank Friday evening, with stars just beginning to peer out over the smokey gray horizon. As students entered the great hall for dinner, audible gasps were heard. It was adorned in bright scarlet and salmon hearts, all of which swayed back and forth, making the hall look like a giant moving caterpillar. Colored fireworks illuminated the enchanted sky, and banners with swirls of Valentines tints were thrown across the podium where the teachers sat. Upon each student's empty pink dish lie a sack of Bertie Botts every Flavor Candy Hearts, while the goblets were decorated with tiny little lips. It looked like something Gilderoy Lockhart would have dreamed up. Ron sighed heavily as he saw the decor.   
  
Hermione herself was overwhelmed by the festivities as they began to eat. The whole staff (excluding Professor Snape and Professor Binns) had also dressed themselves in puse apparel, blinding the student body with the color. It did not look like the boys were having very much fun, but most of the girls were squealing with delight and grabbing their suitor's hand.   
  
"This...is...immoral." Coughed Ron, massaging his temples. "Look at this place!" He inspected it for the third or fourth time. "I think I'm going to be sick."  
  
"This looks like something the muggles do." Pointed Harry, then biting his lip. "The Dursleys used to go all out for Valentines day. I think Dudley just coped for the candy. We just have normal candy hearts in the muggle world, not sand flavored ones." He added, spitting out a funny almond-colored heart candy. Hermione laughed slightly, remembering too when she used to consume the common muggle candy. She gazed around. Many people at the house tables were sharing kisses and hugs, and the atmosphere in the castle was loving and friendly. After a moment of trying to see why she was uncomfortable, she realized she detested this loving essence. Something about it made her wish to be alone, where she could easily write to just her diary. Making up her mind, she stood.  
  
"I think I'm going to go back to the common room." She told her friends, their faces falling.  
  
"And leave us alone with this?!" Questioned a very annoyed Ron. "You can't do that. We're BOYS. You're- you're a girl."  
  
"Yes, I am." She said, nodding and giggling a bit. "I think you two can handle it." With this, she headed back up to the Gryffindor common room.   
  
She sat by the fire with her journal and began to write. Everything about the year seemed to be building up to this very day, and her heart was screaming to say something to someone. There was simply too much kindness and caring in the air for her to cope with. As she put her quill to the parchment, she scribbled,  
  
'I don't want to hate him. I never thought I'd say this before, but it certainly is true. I want him to be the way he was just weeks ago, when he could calmly tell me things that I never knew to be true about him.   
  
Yet I want to despise him, because I want things to be back to the way they were before I saved him. I miss being able to insult his stupid little face, that beautiful, but horrid face, and not care. Now it seems that when I say something cruel to him, I'm the one who's hurt by it.  
  
I don't care if things improve or worsen between Draco Malfoy and I, just don't let it be the way it is now. I have no one left to talk to.   
  
You know, I finally began to think that there was a little bit of good in Malfoy; that he had a gentle side. Yet I seem to be always proven wrong. I began to gain some respect for him, maybe even to befriend him. Maybe even to admire him. Maybe I admire Draco Malfoy. Can it be?' She set down her quill and stared at the crackling fire for a moment. Her first instinct was to throw her diary into it, burning all of her pointless, probably wasted thoughts. But she paused as she heard a shaky voice whisper into her ear,  
  
"Is it true?" She turned quickly around, spotting no one. All of her worries had now led to paranoia, she told herself. What next? She picked up her dragon-skin bound book and stroked it's intricate cover, cursing her own words in her mind.   
  
"Is it true?" Came the voice again, louder this time. She again flung herself around.  
  
"How did you get in here?!" She asked harshly, gasping as she immediately recognized the silver eyes. "Malfoy, you shouldn't be-how did you?"  
  
"It doesn't matter now." He told her, shaking his silvery locks. "Nothing does. Just tell me if what you wrote was the truth."  
  
"You read it?" She whispered, on the verge of being frightened. He nodded slowly, taking in her expression like a sponge to water. "I- I don't know..." He stood, not moving or breathing, staring at her solemn and solicitous face. He paused and blinked softly, still remaining very silent. "Yes." She said quietly after a moment of thought. "I think it is." And suddenly, almost as if it was happening in a flash of lightning, he had wrapped his arms about her and held her to him in a tight embrace.  
  
"Malfoy, what the- how did you get in- get off of Hermione, you ignorant moron!" They both looked up from eachother's arms as Ron Weasley burst into the common room.  
*** 


	12. Crucified Friendship

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
"Arise my love, my fair one. Fair one, come away with me. Lo, for the winter is past. The rain is over and gone...Arise my love, my fair one."   
-This quote is off of a beautiful piece of music in which has no visible composer. I do not own this wonderful piece of work.  
  
Chapter Twelve: Crucified Friendship  
  
The pale, citrus haired boy looked from Hermione to Draco as they quickly pulled apart. Astonished, he placed his clammy palm over his mouth in an inaudible gasp. "W-what are you doing with Hermione?" He stammered, drawing one step nearer. "You get away from her, you Slytherin git, just leave her alone. And get out of our common room for Christ's sake." Ron's eyes grew angry and colder, more so than Hermione or Draco had ever seen them. The rage in him was palpable, and it frightened Hermione almost to the point of tears. Draco stared at Ron for a few brief moments, which seemed to last for ages, then stepped quietly out of the portrait hole.  
  
For a second, Hermione thought that Ron took it lightly, but only for a second. After a short pause, he erupted, "What were you doing!? How did he get in? Did you let him in?"  
  
"Surely, Ron, you'll let me explain!" She pleaded. "I didn't let him in, I promise this! I simply came into the common room to write in my journal, and moments later, there he was. What you just witnessed-"  
  
"What I just witnessed? Maybe you aren't understanding this. I just witnessed Malfoy doing something to you that I can't even imag-" He slumped upon a nearby armchair, exasperated. "I don't think I can stand this. You've hit me with a few surprises, Hermione, but this? I never expected this." He looked up at her, as if to expect some sort of an explanation.  
  
"Ron, I'm sorry." She whimpered.  
  
"I just can't believe you'd so something like this to Harry and I. The whole of Gryffindor house, even! What were you thinking? What is even happening? This whole thing has honestly confused me." He sighed. She took a short step towards him.  
  
"Ron-"  
  
"Just don't talk to me." She stood, her lips ajar for a moment, then narrowed her eyes.  
  
"Fine." She snapped harshly, turning around. "I shouldn't listen to you, anyway. You aren't my father. You have no right to order me around. I can do what I will with my life, and there's nothing you, Harry, or Gryffindor house can do about it!" She yelled, making her way up to her dormitory.  
***  
"McGonagall must be insane!" The rash voice of Blaise Zambini came. "You don't need a tutor, especially Granger, the great mudblood. Just don't go." Draco shook his head, staring at the letter he had recieved that morning. "It could be some sort of a mistake." She added.  
  
"No, I've gotten into enough trouble though these years, what with getting detentions and all. I think I'd better just go."  
  
"Say the owl never came." She suggested, shrugging. He raised his eyebrows.   
  
"I don't think so. I mean, it was sent just from McGonagall's office; it didn't have a very long flight."   
  
"Whatever." She replied, putting a pale hand on his shoulder. "It's your funeral."   
  
"For your information, Zambini," He demanded, smirking slightly, "I think it would be more of Granger's funeral." Blaise returned his comment with a sneer. "Besides, I could do with a bit of a walk." She sighed and wrapped her arms about him. Draco felt awkward. Last time someone had been in his arms...  
  
"Give Granger a good kick for me." She told him, waving as he began to walk up the stone stairwell.  
  
*A kick indeed,* He thought as he approached the library. As he went through the arched doorway, he spotted Hermione waiting nervously for him, her arms embracing a small stack of books. She noticed him, and quickly turned her head away.   
  
"Quite a good job you did on Valentine's, Malfoy. I haven't heard the end of it since last week. Ron's getting all snooty."  
  
"I always said he was a dunderhead, didn't I Granger?" He retorted, sitting down.  
  
"No, Malfoy! You're wrong! He's not the dunderhead, it's you and I! I'm ridiculous, you're ridiculous...what are we doing here? Maybe Ron is right, after all. What was I doing?" Worried as to her next comment, Draco interrupted.  
  
"Say what you wrote was true. Say, perhaps, I felt similar. Then what? What would you do, Hermione?"  
  
"Ex...cuse me?" She stuttered, placing her fingers upon her lips. "What did you just say?"  
  
"What?" He paused, staring at her curious expression. Realizing suddenly what he had said, he corrected, "GRANGER! I meant Granger." He chuckled uneasily. "Bloody Weasley implanting thoughts in my mind."  
  
"Malfoy, you called me Hermione."  
  
"Not intentionally." He promoted, frowning. "I can't believe you think..." Cutting himself off, her stared into her deep, dusty eyes, taking in their sincerity. She was gazing at him as she never had before, and upon her face was plastered a look of concealed admiration, flowing out through her bona fide, static eyes. She took his hand in hers and smiled meekly.   
  
It was almost as if everything had changed in that moment. His life beforehand became pointless and inane. His hatred of her was impotent now, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. For in her stare were galaxies of despair, happiness, hatred, and love. It was then that Draco realized that her eyes were her true beauty, and that everything else that people considered less then preposessing was worthless. They were the reason he was still lving; she was the reason he was still living. "You know," He began, his gaze rested on hers. "Many people believe that madness is the poisoning of the mind, but I've never believed that." She turned from him and drew her hands back.  
  
"Is that so?" She asked quietly.  
  
"Yes." He nodded. "I believe that madness is the poisoning of the soul." Almost as if struck by sudden inspiration, she pivoted back to him, beginning to chew upon her lip.   
  
"Then if that is true, I must be mad." She articulated, a small strand of hair falling across her placid face. "Something about me must have changed. I must be mad." She repeated, as he lowered his chin and tore his vision from her.   
  
"I apologize for my evil deed, you should know that. I didn't mean- I didn't want to-" She hushed him and took his hands again, embracing them with her own. They were cold, and shook spasmodically. She was frightened, but the fear was healthy and new. She held onto his hands until they were warm, and watched him closely as he inspected her.  
  
"I'm not that interesting, you know." She said after a while with a short laugh. He raised his eyebrows.  
  
"That's one person's opinion." He admonished. "I, in turn, find this whole situation intruiging." She smiled at him and nodded.   
  
"As it certainly is. Well, McGonagall did say she wanted stronger ties between Gryffindor and Slytherin." Suddenly realizing something, Draco's face fell.  
  
"I nearly forgot you were a no-blood. Could this be happening because of..." He swallowed, urging himself to continue. "Do you think this is due to the bond?" Apparently trying to avoid the subject, Hermione snapped,  
  
"Perhaps. I don't know, Malfoy."  
  
"Listen." He began after a moment of prolonged silence. "I know I'm a Slytherin, and pretty much a no-good prat. And you're a Gryffindor. Everyone fancies Gryffindors. I know I'm hated by most everyone, but ever since that day you stopped me from dying, something had changed." Hermione raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You mean- saved you from dying." He nodded.   
  
"But you must admit, something had changed."   
  
"I do admit that." She acknowledged. "And so you think that's why this has occurred?" He pondered this for a moment, and then with a stout exhale, he shook his head.   
  
"No. And as I've told you before, I've seen the world. I know about it. And I know that initially I thought that the bond had something to do with it, but now that I think of it, if all this had happened even without you saving me, I would still..." He broke off, idolizing Hermione's curious expression.  
  
"Go on," She encouraged. He bit his lip, as if trying to hide something from himself.  
  
"No, I can't." Deciding that this was not the time to provoke Draco's emotions, Hermione smiled softly.  
  
"It's okay." She promised him, "I'm sure it's not important."  
  
"I would still admire you." He finished quickly. For a long moment, Draco thought he saw a flick of worry and sadness dance across Hermione's face. She stared at him for a long time, almost as if she did not even dream of realizing this before. Her face was very close to his, and he could feel her warm breath upon his lips. Something told him to lean over and kiss her, to break the bond right then and there, yet something more intricate held him back. Perhaps this was all a fabrication; just some enormous, blinding dream, and Draco himself had not realized it yet. Perhaps it was not the right time or right atmosphere. Whatever it was, he was sure that he had done the right thing, and pulled away.  
  
"Draco," She started, carefully toying with the name. "Like Draco of the ancient Roman civilization. The cruelest, most inhumane creature of the times. On one hand, it is a horrible thing. But on the other hand, it is Draco, the constellation in the stars, signifying beauty and grace. Which am I to believe?" She asked him, her eyes darting across his pale complexion.  
  
"Both." He considered. Her eyes seemed to widen at that moment, if that was possible.  
  
"Can I ask you something?"  
  
"I suppose."  
  
"How did you get in on Valentine's Day?" He had known this was coming. Barely pausing to take in her question, he laughed.  
  
"How did I know you would ask that. You Gryffindors can't leave anything a mystery, can you? I think that's the significant difference between us. Very well, if you must know." Halting for a moment, he ran a hand through his hair. "Well, remember how I told you I fell through that stair and landed right before your dormitory?" She nodded, waiting for him to commence once more. "Well, I jumped into it this time, not quite knowing why. I suppose I just wanted to see what you were like when just being...you." This struck Hermione as curious.  
  
"But I am always me."   
  
"No." He responded to this, shaking his head. "Around me you are indignant and highly fearful. Alone, one can be completely different." Now understanding his ideaology, she motioned for him to continue.  
  
"When I told you about Voldemort praising me for the death of that child, he gave me a gift. He gave me the power to dissapear. And so I used it. I waited outside your common room for you to come, and when you did, I came inside with you. I was simply there the whole time."  
  
"That's not a very reassuring thing, you know." She frowned. "I'll never know when you're lurking behind me." Stopping, she contemplated for a brief second. "It's a very useful gift, you know, but very dark. I wouldn't use it often if I were you."  
  
"And why not?" She gave him a very menacing look.  
  
"Okay, alright, fine!" He barked, looking very sullen and annoyed. "I think you just don't want me sneaking up on you again." He teased. She simply rolled her eyes.  
***  
Ron was in a horrible mood that evening when Hermione returned from the library. He began pacing back and forth around her, attempting to make her feel very guilty. It was working quite well.  
  
"Where were you, Hermione?"  
  
"I was tutoring Malfoy. McGonagall told me-"  
  
"McGonagall? That's a pretty pathetic excuse if you ask me. I think you just went to go snog with him or something. I know you fancy him."  
  
"Ron-" She persisted, raising her eyebrows. "No one ever said that. He simply snuck in here, and...attempted to..." She halted mid-sentence and turned to Ron. Looking him straight in the eyes, she yelled, "Fine! You know what, Ron, you win. Draco has changed, and I think you are just jealous." She snapped, narrowing her eyes.  
  
"Malfoy? Changed? Malfoy will never change. He'll always be a sniveling, stupid, ignorant, moronic, dung-eating, prat of a daddy's boy, and a murderer upon that! He'll always be a git Slytherin, and Slytherin's never change. You don't see Pansy Parkinson coming up and offering me sweets, do you?"  
  
"Offering you sweets? It's hardly anything like that! He can be completely heartfelt, I hope you know. You really are jealous."  
  
"Jealous? Of a toad-breathed rogue like Malfoy? I really don't think so."  
  
"Ron, no one said that you could protect me. That's my own job. You don't run my life, I do. And if I think Malfoy has changed, he has." Ron looked dumbfounded. "And you know what?" He did not answer, but stood staring at her evilly. "I do fancy him." She watched as his bothered expression turned into one of complete loathing, then turned menacingly to go back up to her dormitory.  
  
"You'll regret this, Hermione! I hope you know that you've pulled yourself into a trap that you'll be stuck in for all eternity!"  
***  
"What's wrong, Draco?" The beautiful Slytherin girl asked him as he swept into the common room. He was blinded by a flash of green light, and he felt quite sick. Blaise was stading before him, supporting his weight on her shoulder.  
  
"I'm...fine..." He mumbled. "Just a bit lightheaded- I...guess-" She frowned and sat him upon the couch, staring into his chalk-gray eyes. "Don't worry about it." Sighing, she placed her head on his shoulder and coldly shut her eyes.   
  
"The thing is, I always worry about you. I think there's something wrong that neither of us know about."  
  
"Like a conspiracy?" He suggested, closing his eyes.  
  
"Maybe. I'm always afraid for you, what with Voldemort and everything. You're sure things are alright?"  
  
"I would hope it, Blaise." He looked up as she drew back her head and threw her hair over her shoulder.   
  
"Because, I love you, you know." He briefly gazed at her, then whispered,  
  
"I know." Nothing she said could help him now, for he was bound to Hermione Granger. Bound to Hermione.  
  
There was an elongated moment of silence. Blaise was now asleep on his lap as he stared hopelessly into the fire. Nothing good could come of this situation. Blaise ejected her feelings for him; ones in which he did not return, for he had fallen for a vitim of his own fowl play. He had fallen for the girl for whom he had so long despised and detested. Fallen for a mudblood that could have easily enough been killed by Voldemort. For a few minutes, he hated himself, and every impure thought that flowed through his mind like a river of darkness. And for those few moments, he had the temptation to turn around and take back everything he had just said. But when they elapsed, Draco knew that something about this was all for the best.  
  
He slowly rose, trying not to move Blaise much, and went upstairs into his dormitory. It was dark and murky, but the beams from the evening's moon rode across the sky as firey dragon wings and projected into the room, spilling light over Draco's solemn face. He felt he was dripping with perspiration, and wiping it off his brow, shuffled into the bathroom.  
  
He stared into the mirror for a moment. Draco Malfoy stared back. But no, on second thought this was not the Draco Malfoy he knew for most of his life. The man that stared back at him through the reflection looked weak, grim, and tired, his eyes kind, yet melancholy, his lips twisted and salmon, his hair straggled and moist. He did not look like Draco Malfoy, he rendered, stroking the pale skin he never noticed he had. This person that stared back at him was fragile, hopeless, yet all in one, beautiful.   
  
And then he realized it. It hit him like a clap of thunder. The weak beauty was wha he admired. He loved the way Hermione always seemed so steady, yet how he knew that on the inside she was not. He loved the way that her eyes never stayed focused; that they always darted around in a state of paranoia. Yes, that was it. He loved her uneasiness, her weakness, unsureness. She was like a delicate flower, torn from the rough wind, swaying in a dank winter's breeze. She was just like him.  
  
He looked back down into the sink, and turning it on, let the cold and mocking water run down his palms. As he looked down, something midnight and red shot through his vision. And after a second, he realized what it was.  
  
"Nagini." He pulled her out of the drain as she offensively coiled up his arm and handed him a letter. "Thanks." He told her, shoving her back down from where she came. He unfolded the note quickly, eager to read it.  
  
Draco,  
Well done with everything so far. Voldemort has another task for you; he seemed to like the job you did of the Fredcook's daughter. Using your invisibility power and your wit, he hsa instructed me to tell you that you must kill the following students. They are an annoyance of his, for some of them have meddled in his affairs. Finally, mudbloods will cease to be at Hogwarts, and we shall make room for the better and more sophisticated magical folk.  
  
The list is as follows:  
Lisa Turpin  
Sam Quiggle  
Gerina Vandebuilt  
Hermione Granger  
  
I expect this task done in no more than one week. If you do not comply, Voldermort shall deal with you.  
Sincerely yours,  
-Lucius.   
*** 


	13. The Choice

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Author's Note: Firstly, thanks to all my reviewers so far. You guys have been a true inspiration on my path to writing this fic. You're the best! Next order of business, maybe you've seen it in my account, but I began to re-write a fic that I had written in the past. It's entitled, "Memories of the Future." It is something I completed quite a while ago, but decided I wished to re-write it. It has one of the most interesting plots I've ever come up with: it's something very original and nothing like what's on the net (that I know of _). So if you'd like to take a look at that, I'd be very appreciative. One last thing: the humongous change of plot does not occur until the last chapter, so don't be surprised if it takes a bit of time. I'm hoping to finish re-typing that fic in 2 weeks. Thanks for your time. There's more info about "Memories of the Future" written in just before chapter one. Ciao!   
  
Chapter Thirteen: The Choice  
  
The letter fell from his fingertips as fast as a letter could, drifting downwards and finally landing on the balmy tile below his feet. As if trying not to retain what he had just read, he glanced into the mirror again, staring menacingly at his perspirated face. He did not take his eyes from the reflection before him for a moment, deeply thinking about himself and where was the wrong turn he had taken. Slowly, he bent down and swept up the parchment, tucking it safely into his cloak and gliding hastily out of the room.   
  
It was immoral. He couldn't do anything of the sort. Contrary, however, he did not wish to end up such as that man had; being killed for...not killing. He inhaled shakily, and suddenly her scent was caught in his nostrils. That wonderful fragrance of rose oils and daisies: she smelled just like the field of flowers had in his daydream. He gazed about hopefully, as if to spot something there that would solve his problem, and when he found nothing, he fell silently onto his bed. For a moment, he stared up at the emerald cloth canopy, his eyes fixated upon the silver serpent dancing it's way across the stitching. It was so evilly beautiful, almost unattainable, and for some twisted reason, Draco was reminded of the image he had seen that night in the forest. Something about this seemed incorrect to him.  
  
He stood after a moment, figuring there was nothing else he could do, and exited his dormitory, finding himself upon a warm armchair before the fireside. He inhaled the thick scent of ash, and concentrated. Suddenly, yet slowly, he felt his arm rising, his fist clasp around the silver chain about his neck, and his thoughts begin to mutter.  
  
"You must kill the girl." He heard a voice echo, making his stomach acids dance. "You understand this? Without the girl dead, you are nothing. Remember, she is just a silly little mudblood. You don't understand anything, Draco. But know this: you will kill the girl. He felt his eyes roll back into his head, softly stopping after a moment. It was as if he could see into his thoughts. "Draco, you must kill her. For if you don't, there will be a price to pay."   
  
"A price to pay." He repeated, intoxicated. "I understand." Draco Malfoy felt a large thud from below him, and his eyes shut slowly as his cold body hit the floor.  
***   
The darkness that surrounded him was deep and looming, like staring into a black ocean. Only he was not surrounded by waves, but by whispers, unclear and mostly inaudible. He opened his eyes; they were crusted shut and did not seem like they had been open for ages. He wasn't sure of his location; the only thing he was sure of was that he was not alone.  
  
His vision was foggy, most like his thoughts. He couldn't seem to understand anything that was occurring around him, and this truly frightened him. As his sight began to clear, he heard specifically the cold voice of Blaise.  
  
"Blaise-" He called. She answered him by grabbing his palm.  
  
"Draco," She began, with a waver to her tone. "I thought I'd lost you."   
  
"What happened?" He asked, sitting up. His surroundings still remained unfamiliar.  
  
"I don't know. You kept reciting something silly, over and over again. Something about Granger-"  
  
"Granger?" He asked solemnly. "My God! What day is it, Blaise?"  
  
"Friday. It's been a week since you've been here."  
  
"Friday! Dear God, a week's gone by already? If I don't get back to reality soon..." He trailed off as he noted Blaise's expression.   
  
"Don't worry, Malfoy. We'll get you back. But savor where you are for a little while; don't jump right into things.  
  
At this comment, Draco attempted to look about, but his vision was still slightly misty. "Then where am I?" He questioned, holding tightly onto her trembling palm. Her eyes widened as she ran her thumb down his knuckles gently. She caressed his hand softly, calming him a bit. But his expression must have still been uneasy, for Blaise stared at him with bother.   
  
"Can't you recognize it?" She admonished, her expression slightly worried. He averted his eyes from the cheaply woven quilt that covered him onto the walls about him. They were painted a bromide salmon, and the thick carpeting was similar in tone. He was lain upon a white wicker bed in which was so tiny that his arms and legs hung from the side. "You're at the house of the Fredcooks. And look-" She began, a cruel smile beginning to form on her lips. He had been lying in the little girl's bed.  
  
"But, how did you...you didn't know...Blaise, what is the meaning of this?" He bit his lip in wonder. Had he said something in his sleep about the Fredcooks? Certainly she would have been more open if he had. After a moment, her red eyes focused on his pale gray ones, penetrating his gaze with hers. It was the most malicious and malignant look he had ever seen her give, and the evil that shone through her stare was palpable. Her scarlet pupils glittered with pride and sinister, black hearted malevolency.   
  
"Perhaps I'm not as benign as you believed me to be." She looked upwards, grinning ruthlessly. "Draco, Draco, Draco. Did you think that I was that idiotic? That is, I am a Slytherin, aren't I? And Slytherins are of course, quite persistent. We're cunning and bold- perhaps you underestimated me. Perhaps you thought you could simply take advantage of me." At this he tried to oppose, but her evil smirk broadened. "Did you honestly think that I could not see you were falling for that slut Granger?" She twirled an edge of the blanket between her fingers as she stood. "Well, quite frankly I had to stop it. I couldn't stand for you to love a stupid little mudblood, when I am perfectly available. Look into my eyes!" She suddenly shouted. "What do you see?" She asked, pulling her face but inches from his.   
  
"I don't see Blaise, that's for sure." He sputtered.  
  
"Well, what DO you see?"  
  
"Evil." He put curtly after a moment. "I see evil."  
  
"Very good, Malfoy. So you've finally figured me out. Of course, I had to spell it out for you, didn't I? I mean, perhaps you are the moron I always thought you to be."  
  
"But I thought- that is, you told me you admired me."  
  
"Hmm." She considered, running a hand through the shining hazelnut hair atop her head. "That I did. But of course I did. When you hated mudbloods. When you knew me best. When you were Draco Malfoy. But what are you now? A sap. A worthless, cheesy sap like from a story tale. Prince saves princess, knight rescues lady- Ugh! You're so cliquè. Incredibly predictable. I mean, I should have known you'd be so impotent. It should have been carved into my damned thoughts. But no! I so blindly went on admiring you, thinking you were simply wonderful, when your eyes were set on Granger the whole time. And is this fair? Of course not. But that's the way the world works, yes?" Draco stared at her, then after a minute, nodded.   
  
"So I'm not a death eater. And the problem with that is...? I still have the right to kill you in any possible way, because that's the way the world works." She drew out her wand from her midnight robes and fiddled with it for a moment. "But I won't. I'll give you a choice. Either you choose your life, or Granger's life."  
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"My God, you are ignorant. Why do you think Nagini came up your drain the other night? She usually comes up mine, you dimwitted idiot."  
  
"So?" She rolled her eyes.  
  
"No wonder you're failing half your classes, you're as dumb as a sack of potatoes. I sent her up your drain, stupid, after reading that letter. I've been doing it with most of your mail. Don't think I didn't see what Voldemort told you to do. If you don't kill Granger, you're as good as dead. And don't think your father will cover for you, because I'll get to you before Voldemort does. The second I find you are sparing that despicable mudblood's life, your life is in my hands." He shuttered.  
  
"But there is another option."  
  
"Continue..." He nodded. Her smirk was growing broader by the second.  
  
"You kill the mudblood, and stay with me."  
  
"Stay...with you?" She raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Mmmhmm. Seems fair, doesn't it? Well make your choice, Malfoy. Your life, or hers?"  
  
"Can I just ask one question? When did you figure it out? About Granger and I, that is."  
  
She heavily sighed and massaged her temples, as if not wanting to think about it. "Eh, the day she tutored you. You might as well have just kissed her right there, it was so obvious. I followed you to the library. I don't know why, really. Just a girl's instinct." She frowned and furrowed her brow. "Satisfied? Why don't you just make a freaking choice already." He pondered for a moment, too many thoughts swimming through his mind to think straight. "Slow as molasses." She muttered dreamily.   
  
"But, how did I get here?"   
  
"With a little help from your father. When I told him you were doubting your position, he immediately swept me to wherever I wished to go, and I brought you with me." She paused, as if looking for something more to say. Her ruby lips slightly ajar, she began again, "It's a good thing I found you when I had. Otherwise, you would have ended up in that godforsaken infirmary, and hell knows how I would have taken you from there." Shrewdly, she smiled at him. "Well it has been a week, Draco. This is your last day before someone dies. It's either you, or that no blood Granger that you've hated all your life."  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" He asked, trying with difficulty to stand. She exhaled, slightly annoyed.  
  
"Because you mean a lot to me, and I hardly want to see that wasted on a great mudblood like Granger. Now are you quite finished with questions? I'm growing impatient."  
  
"Well!" He commenced with a bit more force. "This sort of isn't your every day decision. Give me a minute." She frowned and leaned against an oak dresser, signaling for him to continue his thoughts.  
  
"You wanted to die before." One voice said in his ear. "Might as well try again. What is it was you are really living for, anyway." Malfoy bit his lip.  
  
"Kill off the girl!" Said another voice, "Remember how much you hated her? You can live your life free of any mudbloods. You can be all powerful! Stand up to your father! Show Lord Voldemort what you are made of! Teach the world a lesson! You needn't be tied up in the affairs of enemies. Let her perish, life will be good. You'll have Blaise." Slowly, he raised his head, trying to block away the whispers in his ears.   
  
"If I mean that much to you, why are you doing this?"  
  
"BECAUSE you mean so much to me. I won't let you make this mistake. I won't let you be blinded by your own blindfold. Don't be sightless, Malfoy. Remember who your true friends are." Nodding, Draco closed his eyes.  
  
"Then I've made my choice."  
***  
"Hermione." Draco told the worried girl before him. "I must tell you something."  
  
"Certainly." She answered, her face still very concerned. "What's wrong?"   
  
"Come with me." He led her grimly into a dark passageway. She took his hand and followed, frightened by his dark expression. He brought her into a small, scarcely lit classroom, his thoughts dancing as he focused his gaze upon hers.  
  
"Draco, what's wrong?" She repeated sullenly. He shook his head and hushed her, illuminating his wand.  
  
"There's a lot to say, yet I find nothing. Here." He reached into his robe pocket and drew out an attractive, raven rose. Wrapped about the stem was his silver chain, gleaming in the light shining from his wand.   
  
"Why are you giving this to me?" She exclaimed promptly. "I can't accept this." He put a finger to his lips, again silencing her.   
  
"I want you to have it." He pulled the chain off of the rose slowly, then wrapped it around Hermione's neck and clasped it shut. Against her pale flesh the charm looked astounding; it complimented her beautifully. She took it in her palm, clutching it as if to say something. "We have to say good-bye."  
  
"Good-bye?" She questioned. "Draco, what do you mean? I don't understand."  
  
"I know. I'll just make it simple. It's going to be hard for me, it's going to be hard for you. But this is it. After today, after these remaining moments, I'll never see you again." She raised her chin quickly.  
  
"But why? What is going on?" She drew herself nearer to him, placing a palm on his white cheek and running the other through his thin hair.   
  
"I'm sorry." He whispered softly. It had been one of the first times Hermione had ever heard Draco apologize. "This is just the way things are meant to be." He paused, and looked about. "Things are changing. And not for the better, I can assure you. I'm almost promising that Voldemort is getting stronger by the moment. He's attaining more followers, and harshly punishing everyone that does not agree with him. I faced hard truth, but I had to make a choice. And I will stand by it." He shuttered. "I understand that you went through a lot when you saved me, and for now, I'll thank you. But everything must come to an end now, bond or no bond."  
  
"Draco, please. Just tell me what's happened, and I'll fix everything."  
  
"It will be better this way. Things will be nearly normal again." He continued as if not hearing her. "And I suppose I'll get what I always wanted. If only things hadn't changed this year, I think saying good-bye would be much simpler." He shook his head. "I dunno why, but legacy must remain. I may have lost all my hope, but my pride is still intact." His eyes sparkled as she embraced him.  
  
"You're talking madly. I don't know what's the matter, but we'll make it better, alright?"  
  
"No, Hermione." He began, shutting his eyes and massaging his temples. "We won't." He fiddled for something in his robes. Then gradually, as if played in slow motion, Draco Malfoy drew out his wand, pointed it at Hermione, and muttered, "Crucio."  
*** 


	14. The Road Not Taken

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Fourteen: The Road Not Taken  
  
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood  
And sorry I could no travel both  
And be one traveler long I stood   
And looked down one as far as I could  
To where it bent in the undergrowth  
  
Then took the other as just as fair  
And having perhaps the better claim  
Because it was grassy and wanted wear  
Though as for that, the passing there  
Had worn them really about the same  
  
And both that morning equally lay  
In leaves no step had trodden black  
Oh I kept the first for another day!  
Yet knowing how way lead onto way  
I doubted if I should ever come back.  
  
I shall be telling this with a sigh  
Somewhere ages and ages hence  
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-  
I took the one less traveled by  
And that has made all the difference  
  
-Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken   
  
Blaise,  
I'll always remember the words that left my father's lips every time I'd tell him, 'no.' He'd turn his spiteful head my way, scoff, and promise me that frailty was not an option. Perhaps this is what I've lived by: the fact that having a fracture in my brittle emotions was wrong. I can live my life dreadfully, and trust him, or I can finally give into my own power and die. It seems as if either way, I lose. What about this is fair?   
  
But when you told me that you'd admired Draco Malfoy, I was genuinely broken. I have realized that he is gone now, and that whoever it is that now inhabits my skin is a cordial man. Quite frankly, I do not like him. Is it possible to be one's own enemy? Blaise, you were right all along. You are perfectly available. You are just before my eyes and yet I blindly followed a stupid fantasy that tantalized my infantile self. I want the recurring Draco back. I want to see myself back in the place I used to be, when I could gracefully insult any coming aggression, fall laughing to the floor at attempted insults, be mightily crushed under the influence of my father. Perhaps he will return to me if I destroy Granger.  
  
I have never told anyone the following item before, and you should be honored that you are the first. I felt it appropriate to tell you. You may be the only person I know with some real strength left; I admire it. I never got the chance to tell you that you have been ultimately responsible for any normal attitude that I've had this year, and so I thank you. But as I continue, you must realize that all along I've simply been confused. If it hadn't been for a pathetic little bond, either I'd be deceased, or completely sane again. Maybe, if it were not for the fact that I had been saved from dying by Granger, I'd be happier. And so would you.   
  
I am slowly withering away. I can show myself that I have strength and some Slytherin heartlessness left by just killing Granger. Many moons ago, before Christmas, I had been fully prepared to kill myself. In fact, I had nearly done it, when Granger came and stopped me. And now, we share this bond. The books read that I must break the bond before I die. But I have found a loophole. If I destroy Granger, it will be as if the bond never existed. I shall never have to repay her the debt I never intended to have. Understand this, Blaise. Perhaps you were being harsh by bringing me to the Fredcooks. Perhaps you overreacted. You'd think I'd be furious. But no, for some strange reason, the feeling that has been haunting the pits of my stomach had melted away, and I feel as if I am alive again. When I realized that killing Granger was the most obvious option, I felt like I was Draco Malfoy again.  
  
So you can go back to admiring me now. The task is as good as done. I shall murder Hermione Granger.  
  
-A rejuvenated Draco Malfoy.  
  
Blaise Zambini's dark ruby lips twisted themselves into a perfectly evil grin as she clenched the parchment in her fist. He had taken the path that she wished for him to, and the road not taken was slowly winding it's way behind her. Her deathly smirk still plastered onto her face, she lifted herself from the emerald couch, aroused by the total darkness of the room. Besides the three or four candles lit, and the dimly flickering fireplace, it was pitch black in the room, and more sullen and cold than it had ever been.   
  
Not standing the nonsense of being afraid of the blackness, she blew out all but one candle with an elongated exhale, and threw a small canister of water onto the already dying fire. Pulling off her black cloak, she revealed herself to be wearing an intricate silver, velvet dress, tied tightly down the front, with long, belled sleeves. It was a very beautiful dress with forest hemming, and were it not for her size, she may have looked like a snake if one viewed her quickly. She glided over to an oak table, drawing out a piece of parchment and sitting near the lit taper candle.   
  
Dear Father,  
  
She began to write harshly in a penmanship that wound delicately about the surface of the parchment.  
  
Everything is in order, just as planned. Draco is just now off killing that stupid Granger girl. Perhaps, if all goes well, may I ask your permission to wed him? I certainly think that he has changed, and he is back to being Draco Malfoy now. But should I explain to him that my identity is all a facade? For if I do not, I shall never be able to marry him. I know that being pretentious is what I am all about, but I beg you, at least let me admit to him who my real father is. The ignorant fool believes that my parents are dead, the silly man. I shall await your reply with Nagini. I've been swiping my letters before Draco gets his when she comes, anyway. Simply keep sending her up my pipe.   
  
With love,  
Blaise Riddle.   
  
With a fiery grin that could have melted a hail storm, Blaise sealed her letter and let out a horrifying cackle.  
***  
"Draco, no!" Hermione dove to the side just before the curse hit her. "What are you doing?" Draco looked into the desperate eyes of Hermione Granger.  
  
"Never trust a Slytherin." He shrugged morbidly.   
  
"I refuse to believe that with you, Draco! I thought you were different. I saw you. You were a new man with morals, and you didn't care what others thought. Are you telling me that you want to go back to being the sulky, evil boy that had to jeer at others for friendly approval? Is that what you really want to be?" He paused at this, his palms trembling violently. For a moment, it seemed as if he weren't going to even answer. After a minute, he stuttered,  
  
"No, and yes. All my life I've wanted my father to respect me, and to treat me at least somewhat decently. All he ever dreamed of me being is right here in this room, and I if do this, I'll finally get my wish."  
  
"But what about me?" She pleaded. "Wasn't I also once a wish of yours?" He considered this for a second, pondering her words.   
  
"Yes, but you have not been one nearly as long as my father has. I cannot waste my entire existence because of a fling with some silly mudblood. If only you could understand. That would be a miracle. You know what would be even more spectacular? If I understood." He shuttered and twirled his wand in his fingers curtly. "I've realized that I have got things to live for, just like you said. I remember your precise words. You said I should live for 'Books, friends, and fun." He chuckled softly. "Of course, you, the seemingly most intelligent student, would put books first. Well I've got a book to live for." He reached slowly into his robes and drew out 'Debt by Death.'  
  
"Malfoy, you're being inane. Just stop this right now. We will forget it ever occurred." She began to inch towards the door. He sighed heavily and pointed his wand at her.  
  
"Petrificus Totalus." Hermione dropped to the floor in a full body bind. "I'm sorry I had to do that, Granger, but I couldn't let you just get away that easily. Can you speak?" She didn't try. She simply nodded. "Listen, Hermione. You were right. I have a lot more to live for then I ever expected. I'm sorry I ever doubted you." Calmly, as if reading a passage from a book, he whispered, "It's just- you're the road not taken. I could have chosen your path, and I'm sure that would have made all the difference, but I did not. I chose Blaise."  
  
"Blaise!" She cried, trying hard to move. "What has she got to do with this?"  
  
"Everything." Responded Malfoy, frowning. "She's the one who made me see clearly what I've become. In her words, a sap. That's right, I lost my brittle core and my soft underbelly was exposed. And so here I am, proving to not only her, but to myself, that I can be stronger then people tell me." He paused and stared at Hermione's petrified expression. "I'm sorry for all of this. But I realized, there's no point to this anyway. It was a dead end. My father could never know, my friends could never know, so why the hell does it matter?"  
  
"Because you admired me, Draco, and I admired you in return." His cold expression fell.  
  
"I know. And I'm sorry, my Hermione." Stopping for a moment as if to gather courage, he thrust his wand at her and whispered, "Avara Kedavara."  
***  
"It's midnight." She sighed aloud, complimenting her pale smile. Blaise lay sprawled across the rainforest sofa, smirking as the silver clock mounted on the wall struck twelve with a dozen fierce chimes. "He must have done it by now. And perhaps now he and I shall be free to do as we please." She ran a hand through her deep auburn hair and exhaled deeply. Standing, she stretched and headed towards the winding staircase.  
  
Moments later, she found herself in front of the mirror in the powder room of the girls' dormitory, stroking a brush through her thick hair and grinning towards her attractive expression. She mumbled encouraging words to herself, content with the situation. Everything was in order, just as she had planned at the very beginning. She stared at her reflection for a minute, admiring her own beauty and reminding herself that Draco had fallen into her trap. She had him right where she wanted him.   
  
With a sneer that could have broken the heart of a stoic man, Blaise Riddle exited the Slytherin common room and made her way to the deserted classroom to attend to Hermione Granger's dead body.  
***  
The curse flew from Draco's wand and hit Hermione directly in the stomach. He waited for a moment for her scream, but none came. In fact, nothing happened at all.  
  
"Why didn't it work?" He questioned aloud. "It should have worked-" She sighed in relief, but before she could say anything, he had shouted the curse once more. And again, nothing occurred.   
  
"Draco, hush." She started. "I know why it didn't function properly." Puzzled, he put down his wand and listened. "You can't do it because you care for me, as I care for you. The Avara Kedavara curse only works when sincerity is in order. You don't mean this. You don't want to do it, or else you would have been able to." He considered this for a moment. Perhaps she was right. He really didn't want to kill her, he just figured that it would lead to a better life.  
  
"You're right." He whispered softly. He slowly muttered the anti-charm at her, and she was able to move again. Almost as if not knowing of anything else, Hermione sullenly walked over to Draco and embraced him passionately. "You're right." He repeated.  
  
"What's this?" Came a harsh voice from the doorway. "Draco, you promised you would destroy this damned mudblood- what has gotten into you?" He stared at her for a moment, Hermione still in his arms.   
  
"I can't kill her, Blaise. I- I love her." Hermione inhaled shakily, placing the back of her palm over her open lips.   
  
"You love her?" She laughed, growing slightly uneasy. "That shouldn't stop you." He narrowed his eyes and stared at her.  
  
"I couldn't do it if I tried. It's impossible." Blaise, looking murderous, pulled them apart and stepped before Draco, beginning to kiss him. She lured him with her seductive brush, and Hermione watched as he was pulled into her lure. It seemed as if Blaise had more persistence and power than they had though. Much more.   
  
He finally managed to pull away, his brow furrowed in anger. "Don't you ever touch me." She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Draco, I won't do a thing to you. It's your little girlfriend here that has the last word. Say your good-byes." From in between her bosom, Blaise drew out her wand, and thrusting it at Hermione, she yelled, "Crucio!" Before the curse could hit her, Draco dove in front of it. Not able to cry out, he fell to the ground in searing pain.  
  
"How could you do this to him?" Hermione shouted at the astonished Blaise, taking advantage of the moment. "Take it off, right now!"   
  
"Not until we get some things straight, mudblood. I was here first. I knew Draco ages before you. I'm tempted to strangle you right now with my own bare hands, because here he goes falling for some..." She trailed off, her eyes moving up and down Hermione's body. "Sluttish no blood. I've always been there for him, and suddenly you show up, with no charm, no looks, no true intelligence. True intelligence would be of the real world, not something from some snobby textbook. And I've got all of those things; everything a Slytherin cherishes. You sicken me, and so does he.  
  
"All he had to do was kill you. It was Voldemort's orders, anyway. But no. Of course he couldn't, because he loved you." She stopped for a moment, indicating towards the limp body twitching upon the floor. "I've admired him since I was seven years old. And finally the moron realizes it, and of course now it's too late." She frowned, cutting off the curse. Draco lay panting on the floor. "So since he's too weak to kill you, I'll do it myself. You'll pay, mudblood." Hermione rushed to Draco's side and cradled his head in her arms. He was wheezing, and attempting to acknowledge her presence.  
  
"Then kill me. But I will only die as a martyr." She swallowed and stood, Draco clinging to her leg. "Draco, let me do this myself." It seemed sensible, but he did not give in that easily. He tried to stand, but his knees gave out and he simply fell back down.  
  
"You could have died either way, Granger, but let's do it my way." She sneered and shouted, "Avara Kedavara!" Hermione saw the curse coming and dodged it. She quickly drew out her wand, pointed it at Blaise, and screamed,  
  
"Expelliarmus!" Blaise's wand flew from her hands and landed in Hermione's palm. Blaise was inhaling angrily.  
  
"You stupid little bitch!" She screamed, hysterical. Her auburn hair was knotted and tangled, plastered to her perspirating face. She jumped slightly as she said this. "It's a good thing I put a sound spell over this room, too, or you'd be saved by your little caretaker, Filch. But no one can hear anything. You can scream, and no one will come to help you."  
  
"I beg to differ, Blaise. You're the one who needs help." Pointing her wand at Blaise, she shouted, "Stupify!" But before the curse could hit her, a loud crash sounded, and she was gone.   
  
Frightened, Hermione jumped before Draco, embracing him tightly. "I don't know where she went." He coughed.  
  
"Don't worry." Reassured Hermione. "Wherever she did go, I'm sure we'll find her." She paused and then looked down at him. "Why was it, that if she claims she loves you, that the spell hit you?"  
  
"Because it was aimed at you." He told her. "If it weren't, I don't know what would have happened." But before he could continue, she put a finger to her lips, just as he had done earlier and hushed him.   
  
"Thank you, Draco. For everything." He weakly smiled up at her, trying hard not to show her that he knew the worst was to come.  
***  
Author's Note: I had a lot of fun writing that chapter _ . Yes, that seemed like the end, but it was not. Chapter fifteen will probably be out by the Twenty-Seventh or Twenty-Eighth, but possibly earlier. If I get time, I will try to finish it by Thursday. Thank you for all of your support. I anticipate my next chapter shall be out shortly. Thanks a bunch!  
-Angel Of Music. 


	15. Worry and Deception

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Fifteen: Worry and Deception  
  
"Despicable." Mumbled the creature that paced before him, scoffing. "Your deeds are far worse than anything I've seen in quite some time. Abandonment, that's simple. Punishment by death. Disobeying orders, easy. Punishment by death. But all this?" He questioned, shaking his head. "I find it hard to breath when I retain what you've done. I should deplore you. I should kill you." Draco winced as the Dark Lord brought his face merely inches away from his. "A mudblood, Mr. Malfoy? You'd think she'd be easy to do away with. But of course not, because of the bond. Because you love her." He paused, and looked at Draco's astonished expression.  
  
"How did you discover all this, my lord, if I never told you?" He prayed his father didn't know.   
  
"I have my ways." Voldemort snapped. Taking a moment to consider his words, he began, "Love is such a silly thing. If you want status, love is not an option. You are enthroned by hopeless admiration, and you lose all systematic knowing. Do you follow?" Draco deftly nodded, stifling his breath as he inhaled the night's air.   
  
His father, once again in cruel, stoic behavior, had brought him into the hands of Voldemort, who had requested a private chat with Draco. And so here he sat, cold, bothered, confused, and frightened, praying to anyone who'd hear to keep Hermione safe.  
  
It had been a week since Blaise had disappeared, and a whole week of paranoia and fright. She had not shown up for any of her classes, and it remained a mystery as to where she had gone and how she had gotten there. This was certainly not very reassuring, for if anything remotely strange went on at Hogwarts while Draco was gone, he was sure Hermione would inspect. And unfortunately, it seemed Blaise had more power than either of them truly imagined in the first place. Draco bit his lip and watched as the Dark Lord lowered his chin.  
  
"I am truly disappointed in you, Draco. I've warned you before; you do not want to disappoint me." Reaching into his flowing, silver robes, Voldemort tore out his sleek wand, amusing himself with it's elegance for a moment. "You'll regret it." Shutting his eyes, Draco turned his head away, waiting for the blow of a gruesome spell to come. After a minute, when nothing came, he ascended his eyes again to see Voldemort ruthlessly shaking his head.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, you haven't yet given me a chance to say anything." Swallowing, he motioned for the lord to continue. "I feel as I should spare you, for it is in the interest of others who shall remain anonymous. This may come as a shock to you, I suppose, but someone who is very important to me has requested that you remain living. I should have killed you brutally, but for now, you are being let off. Of course, not without some punishment. That is, you still have not murdered that girl. The others have become extraneous now, for the main focus of your weakness is her. You must first eliminate the mudblood, then report to me. I shall give you until the end of the year; that is more than enough time. Then, at the commencing of the summer holidays, I shall have you wed."  
  
"Wed?" Draco questioned, his grim eyes inspecting the sheerly powerful man standing before him. "To whom?" He managed to choke, now glaring down at his feet. This had been the last thing he'd been expecting.  
  
"The very same whom spared your life, and I shall say no more. I will not await your approval. Through this marriage, I can make you more powerful than any mortal wizard. You will be very pleased."  
  
*No, I won't be.* Draco thought madly. Hatred began to flow through his veins, and a strong desire to draw his wand upon Voldemort came over him. *Fool.* He began pondering roughly, a surge of pain and detest swirling throughout his body. *If love will make me weak, so it shall be. Perhaps he doesn't know what he is thinking.* Draco narrowed his eyes, his thoughts centering coldly on the Dark Lord. With a start, he stood.  
  
"You are dismissed, Draco. But I expect your task shall be completed." Without answering, Draco dawdled over to his broom and kicked off into the bitter, cruel night's air.  
***  
It was nearly dawn when he returned to the castle, his limbs frozen with the algid chill that flooded the dank morning. His mind swam with haunting thoughts. The destiny the lie before him was grim indeed, and he could see no way out of it. Either way, with the death of Hermione or without, he would not win. He dwelled in thought for a moment as he entered the Slytherin common room, reflecting with overwhelming dejection Hermione's safety. He'd have to wait until morning to protect her, for there was nothing he could do now.   
  
Although, he began considering, climbing the stairs to his dormitory, he did know where her common room was. And he had overheard what her password was. Unless they had changed it, he had access to the Gryffindor common room, if ever he required it. Halting mid-step, he pivoted and crept back out into the corridor.   
  
His thoughts focused on Voldemort once more. His trust for people was diminishing quickly, for he felt there was no one left that was plausible. There were so many lies circulating throughout his mind that he began to grow slightly sick. He could never kill Hermione, let alone live with himself afterwards. Perhaps he should simply allow himself to perish, sparing her? It seemed the only sensible option, but again, without Draco, she'd have no one to look after her and advise her when Voldemort had a plan. It was true that she had Potter and Weasley, but neither of them could truly protect her from her own death. Draco frowned as he found himself in front of the fat lady and whispered, "Godric" at her.  
  
"Waking me at such an hour." She mumbled, fluffing her dress poignantly. "Who are you? I've never seen you about before."  
  
"Never mind that." He snapped, drawing himself into the common room as she swung open. He thanked the gods for keeping the password the same. Stumbling in, he immediately spotted Hermione, her pale face illuminated by the dim firelight, chewing on her nails and staring into a thickly bound book. His lips twitched in a relieved smile, slowly slipping up next to Hermione and sitting down. As she turned her head quickly to visualize him, she jumped, quite startled.   
  
"What are you doing here?" She barked quietly.  
  
"Making sure you are safe. Is everything alright?" She sighed and took his hand.  
  
"Yes, everything is fine." She yawned. Draco idolized the way her thin lips parted as she placed her palm over them. Now all he could see in her was beauty, not the same Granger that he'd known for so many years. "Did you come all the way here to ask me that?" She questioned after a moment. Nodding, he replied,  
  
"I wouldn't have been able to sleep if I didn't know you were okay."  
  
"I'm fine." She repeated, pulling a scarlet afghan from the arm of the couch and placing it over their laps. She turned to him slowly, her elegant eyes growing wide with worry, and placed her head upon his shoulder. After a moment, she had fallen deeply asleep.   
  
Draco ran his hands through her rough hair, which had been drawn up in a silver ribbon, and promised himself that he would never let her die. She was the only thing that was now precious in his life, and if she died, he too would slowly wither, his soul evaporating into the pits of hell, his judgment shriveling away, his sense of morality vanishing. He would not survive after her death, for he was weaker than he dreamed he was. All that he used to hope, all the sick pretensions he once played, all the gross cruelty he once desired; it was all gone. The once strong hatred of no bloods had lost it's forces, the wish of death upon them all was now tamable. Hermione had changed him, and though the situation seemed to contradict it, she had changed him for the better. He was free for the restraints of his father's wishes, although he still was pushed to obey them, but now he could at least feel that he was thinking clearly for himself, not for his father. For truly, wasn't that how he had spent the last 15 years dreaming? Like his father? He bit his lip and stared into the pith of the looming fire. Before long, his memories drew him too into a apprehensive muddle of sleep.  
***  
"What in bloody God's name is he doing here?"  
  
"Right next to Hermione Granger!"  
  
"I thought that girl had some sense."  
  
"A Slytherin? This is madness."  
  
"How did that great prat get in here?"  
  
Both Draco and Hermione simultaneously woke to a mass of diffused whispers. Opening their eyes readily, they saw a crud of perplexed Gryffindors leaning over them, astonished at what they were seeing. Hermione blinked her eyes once or twice, taking in the absurdity of some of their notions, and drew the blanket from around her. She stood, stretching, and mumbled,  
  
"Good morning everyone." This had not been the response they'd been awaiting. All at once, in an array of shouts, the Gryffindor common room burst into talk and rumor. Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes, slightly annoyed that Draco had not left. This would, of course, require a load of explanation. Draco was still sprawled across the couch, apparently wishing to continue his sleep. After a moment, he too stood, and began to attempt to hush the common room.  
  
"Don't worry." He mouthed at Hermione, whose face was crinkled in disappointment. "Hey! Gryffindors!" He shouted, waving his hands about. "I supposed you'd like some explaining to be done." They all hushed and nodded, synchronized. "Well, the thing is-" cut off by an annoyed gesture from Hermione, he stopped.  
  
"I was giving Malfoy here some excess tutoring. Yes, I let him in. As you all know, he's dumber than a pile of sticks. I guess after so much effort with no progress, we simply both just fell asleep." The Gryffindors stared. The uncomfortable silence with dozens of eyes set upon them lasted for a few minutes, until they all broke off, muttering about how this was a much more boring truth then they had hoped. After they had scattered, Draco shot a dirty look at the sly sandy-haired girl.  
  
"Dumb as a pile of sticks, am I?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes.  
  
"It was just an excuse. I don't...really...think that."  
  
"Of course not," He began solemnly. But after a second, he began to laugh. "You are a daredevil, aren't you?" He teased, smirking. "Telling the whole of Gryffindor a lie."  
  
"Oh shuttup." She demanded, knowing very well that he was playfully jeering at her. It was then she noticed a pair of eyes stray towards her, staring. She turned to inspect the spectator, her expression morphing into one of worry when she spotted him. "Ron, I-" She took a step nearer to him, but he backed away upon his foot.   
  
"Does he make you happy, Hermione?" Ron whispered after a moment of contemplating. She motioned for Draco to back away. Ron was maliciously grimacing at him, but she held him back.   
  
"Ron, you know this is unfair." He stared at her angrily for a moment, and then began softly,  
  
"No. I have a right to know. As your friend for 6 years, and as a sheer enemy of Malfoy, I have a right to know." She shut her eyes and exhaled sadly. There was nothing she wished less to be admitting to Ron than this. After a moment, she nodded.  
  
"Yes, Ron. He does." She shook her head slowly and turned from him, exiting the common room. Draco followed close behind her, frowning. He met her in the corridor and sighed,  
  
"Hermione, there's a lot that must be said. Apologies that must be made, promises that must be kept. If you wish to listen to me, that is." He paused, running a hand down her cheek. "I want nothing more than the best for you."  
  
"What's wrong, Draco? What happened?" He fiercely rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, stopping to admire her curiosity. She knew when something was different. She knew when something was wrong.   
  
"Everything."  
***  
The evening fell upon them more slowly then either had hoped. It was frigid for a march night, though perhaps the darkness and the cold was simply an element in their minds. Both worried for each other that day when they could not be together, for it was morbid indeed. Draco entered the library promptly at five o'clock, quickly glancing across the room to spot Hermione. She say feverishly, biting her lip and staring at the door. When she watched him enter, her eyes lit up in relief.  
  
"You're late." She told him, pointing to the twelve-pronged clock. He raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I'm not." He answered sharply, indicating towards his own wristwatch. She frowned and leaned upon the table. "Forget about tutoring today, Hermione. There's too much to say." He began more seriously. She nodded and allowed him to continue. "I met with Voldemort last night. He informed me that I am still to kill you, my deadline the end of the year." Hermione swallowed and intertwined her fingers. "He then also told me that I am to be wed." He paused and looked up at the worried girl before him. "He knows about the bond. He knows about you and I. He knows everything." She gasped, and stared him straight in the eyes.  
  
"But how?" She asked him, placing her hand upon her forehead.   
  
"I don't know. But what I do understand is that someone spared me. Someone who wishes to marry me." He shook his head. "And this is why I still walk today. If I was not spared, I'd be worse than dead by now." Stopping to consider, he took Hermione's hand. "I won't hurt you. You needn't worry. Voldemort shall simply have to kill me." She closed her eyes and pondered for a moment.  
  
"No." She said softly. "He won't."  
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"No." She began more forcefully. "I won't let him. We shall fight Voldemort together. Hand in hand, side by side. And if we fail, we die as martyrs together. Not separately." He cocked his head in a questioning gaze.  
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand."  
  
"We must end the insanity of his rule once and for all. And together we shall do so." She took a seat next to him and put a hand upon his flush cheek. "We cannot allow him to keep dominating our world. We may be only sixteen, but we have power of our own." Beginning to perceive what she was saying, he nodded.  
  
"But how will we do this?"  
  
"We must spend these Fridays that we have together planning our attack." She told him quickly, as if not wanting to forget anything she was saying. She was growing excited with hope. "We will research all that we can on his weaknesses."  
  
"Then," Continued Draco, catching on. "On the day in which I am supposed to kill you, we shall meet with him; find his whereabouts, and give him a surprise of our own."  
  
"Yes." Grinned Hermione, a plotting smirk beginning to form upon her face. "We shall defeat Lord Voldemort once and for all."  
*** 


	16. Midnight Flowers, Common Men, and Infini...

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Sixteen: Midnight Flowers, Common Men, and Infinity.   
  
"In my name you'd dare to fall? Against evil power you'd dare to fight? Perhaps you don't know the danger of what lies ahead of you." Draco admonished, teasing her hand slightly. "Do you realize that you could be killed?" Hermione frowned, staring him in the eyes with a sturdy gaze.  
  
"I am willing to do whatever it takes to end the tyranny and dictatorship that arises with the name of Voldemort. No more will people shout 'you know who' in the streets. If we perish, we will perish in immolation. Draco, don't you understand? This is our chance! You've told me before, you love me. And no longer will a stupid, silly bond keep us from expressing that. Within your love, we have the only strength we need to keep in order to defeat him. Hear me." She drew back her hand, penetrating his stare. "Hear me." He nodded and bit his lower lip, pondering.  
  
"But can we do this alone? Will we need alliances?" Hermione shook her head fervently.  
  
"No. We must do it on our own, for we are the ones directly affected by Voldemort's cruelty." Standing, she slowly turned about to depart. "A name can withhold so much more than a title." She spoke softly after a moment. "Enclosed in the name of the Dark Lord is power, pain, dread, angst, hope, terror- love. Enclosed in the name of the Dark Lord is simply the features of an everyday person. Maybe this is the reason wizards fear to speak his label." Pausing, she winked at him. "That oughtta give you something to think about." Grinning slightly, but less than gallantly, she swept out of the room, cloak bellowing behind her.  
  
The features of an everyday person.  
***   
June came more quickly than anyone had hoped. It was a typical beginning of June, to be precise, with thick summer flowers just starting to bloom and students bustling to study for the upcoming exams; Hogwarts became like a busy train station bursting with travelers.   
  
Hermione and Draco had done mostly planning, with the occasional persuasion by Hermione to attempt to study for their exams. They had read nearly every book in the dark arts defense section of the library, and had paid very close attention in Dark Arts class. It was crucial that they learned all they could. Though they each promised each other they were nearing ready, nothing- NOTHING could have been farther from the truth. On the inside, each had a flaming fear of the end-of-the-year events, and secretly prayed to whomever was listening that someone would find a way to end the madness for them.   
  
They had sworn to tell no one about their plan, for each knew how word spread. If one told a friend, then friend articulated it to another friend, and so forth, pretty soon the whole of Hogwarts would know, and dreadfully, the word could be passed to Voldemort. Draco shuddered as the thought entered his mind. He could lose Hermione. The Hermione in which was now his. The Hermione in which he was bound to.  
  
Unfortunately, from Draco's knowledge of the world that he pledged he had, he knew that the worst was not over; not even nearly over. The fears that had danced through his mind as his life flowed by were now being shoved in his face; he'd have to stand up to his father, to Blaise, to Voldemort. And the only person that he had to help him, though it hurt him to admit this, was a silly mudblood with nothing but thoughts of peace and goodness. He knew it would not be as easy as she had planned it to be. After all, he was the strongest, darkest wizard upon the known universe, and the thought did not comfort him. He saw the way Hermione's eyes darted uneasily about the room as she softly spoke, shattering his hopes like a ball through a window. Her words of encouragement hardly helped him, for he saw that Hermione knew neither would make it out of his grasp alive. It was the most morbid thing he'd ever dreamed of.   
  
On this particular stellar evening, Draco was twiddling his thumbs, impatiently awaiting his love's arrival in the library. She'd promised to finalize the plans with him; to review exactly what they were to do. She happened to be moments late, and this was beginning to bother him. When she did arrive, she threw her rather weighty amount of books upon the table and collapsed into the simple wooden chair before her. Draco raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Where were you?" She exhaled and rolled her eyes.  
  
"Dashing to my common room to get our books. You know I can't come straight from class like lucky you." He shook his head, the unique personality of Hermione taking time to settle in his mind.   
  
"Lucky me." He mimicked, sneering. "And fortunate for you, likewise, I've found a book that you should like. It's got a list of folks in here that have died attempting to kill off Lord Voldemort, and all the spells they used."  
  
"We need to know what TO use, not what NOT to use. I think you've gone mad with all the research. Must be more than your brain can take." He laughed curtly, then took her hand.  
  
"You're asking for it, you know." He smiled. She quickly looked up at the ceiling, her eyes rolling back in a sarcastic exclamation. Beginning to look more serious, Draco coughed quietly, "Hermione, do you honestly think we can do this? I mean, we're only just learning. We aren't any match for that man- thing-" He paused, tripping upon his own words. "I know it, you know it. Damn, I'm sure Potter would even agree that Voldemort's no child. He's got powers that none of these books could ever dream of mentioning. He's got powers even he doesn't know about. It's an intimidating thought. I was lying in bed, wondering how we'd survive this, and then I realized: we can't. Is it worth risking your life? It's not even me that I care about, and that's saying something. It's you. You deserve better than this, and it's all because of me. You're risking it all because of something I have to do." She began to sigh.  
  
"Draco, I don't know anything about the world, as I've been told. I don't know if we will live or we will die. But what I do know is, I love you, and whatever your doubts are, it will still be worth it. We will not die in vain, but as humbles. Do you understand me?" She had taken his face between her hands, and she began to stare dutifully at him, her vision plastered upon his. After a moment, he nodded. "Unfortunately," She began, her languid expression furrowed. "Neither of us are ready. But with your knowledge of the world and my knowledge of the Arts combined, we shall be able to teach each other." He shone her a puzzled look. "I can teach you the ways of the wand, while you, in turn, can tutor me upon the ways of Lord Voldemort." Draco nodded again delicately, a lock of hair falling from atop his head and perfectly framing his sincere face.  
  
"And you mean this?" He asked after a moment. "Perhaps you aren't sure?" She bit her lip at him curiously and proceeded to respond.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Are you positive that you truly love me?" Questioned he once more, slowly shutting his eyes. She frowned after a moment and began shaking her head.  
  
"I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life." She weakly grinned up at him. After inspecting her, he returned the grim smile.   
  
"Then we've got a benefit." He paused, taking a second to inhale. He slowly ran a hand through his thin, lifeless hair, letting it dart across his eyes and fall messily back into place. He let out the air sparingly, and lied his head upon the oak table when he was through.  
  
"I'm not sure I understand." To Hermione's surprise, Draco smirked at this.   
  
"So my specialty comes into play already." He waited for his sneer to die, then proceeded. "My father once, when I was very young, told me a story that I shall never forget. It began with a woman; a woman called Lily. Lily was a bright, beautiful, budding lady, whom was kind and thoughtful and graceful. She would be pursued my many suitors, all of them craving her luxurious scent, her beauty, and her intellect. Most suitors were perfectly attainable, and some very useful. Alas, my father sighed, she could not find the correct one.   
  
"Then, on a dank, violent eve, as the sun was quickly setting behind the misty treetops, a man by the name of James entered her life." Draco trailed off, allowing for Hermione's small gasp to penetrate his speech. After her excitement had settled, he continued. "James was a poor simpleton, a good Sumerian, a loyal boy. He was brave, yet humble. True and fun loving. And Lily began to admire him.   
  
"Soon, they became good friends, then much more. And again, on a stormy, crisp night, James took another bold step. He proposed to Lily, under a blanket of thick rain, when they were only sixteen. Her brought her a single black Rose, Lily's favorite flower, to show his devotion to her. They were young, yes, but most certainly in love. Now you must understand," He interrupted himself, breaking off the story. "My father was a crude, stoic and emotionless man, whom despised love. This gallant tale of admiration to him was a simple trick of power. Don't worry, it goes forth." Draco smiled at the captured girl before him. "Anyway, they were married before their last years at school were completed, and settled down. After about 10 years, Lily was with child. A rather famous child. But no one wizard knew this at the time.   
  
"Finally the day of the birth came, filled with 'rose petals and pain,' as my father used to describe it. The son was born. And they decided to entitle the boy 'Harry.' Harry Potter." Relishing the drama he was creating, Draco took Hermione's hand.   
  
"A year passed." He continued. "It was after a year that the Potters were forced to move from their home, and into hiding. And it was in that dark shelter of the hiding that James and Lily Potter were killed. But the boy. That Harry Potter. He remained alive. My father rumored, as Voldemort appeared to have explained to him, that the purpose for the boy's survival was love. Lily Potter loved her son so damn much, Granger, that even the evil that Lord Voldemort possessed was not enough to harm the child. And this is where my knowledge of the world comes in handy." He concluded with a small grin that died with Hermione's expression.   
  
"So that is why Harry Potter still remains." She sighed, clenching her fist. "Brilliant." She shone a weak smile and exhaled deeply. "Draco, I've never been more sure of anything in my entire existence: I love you."  
***  
  
"I don't know about this, Granger." Draco questioned profusely as Hermione shut a rusty, sullen door behind her. "The Imperius curse? Let's face it, I'll never learn to fight it off. I don't know what you're going to do about it."  
  
"Well," She began, promptly thrusting her wand at him. "It's worth a try, isn't it? I mean, we have got three weeks, haven't we?" Draco frowned. He was helpless under Hermione's suggestion to teach him the avoidance of an unforgivable curse, even if he told her it was a bad idea. "You're not seriously doubting that you should learn this, are you?" He bit his lip. She furrowed her brow slightly in perplexed amusement. "You're just as difficult as the next Malfoy." He raised his eyebrows.   
  
"Am I?" Swallowed by the notion of acting in any way similar to his father, he nodded. "Fine, then. Teach me. It doesn't mean I'm going to learn. Just because you think you're the smartest witch alive doesn't really signify that you can teach a boy that's as dumb as a pile of bricks to avoid the Imperius curse."  
  
"So I'm not a mudblood anymore." She stated wryly, her fatally salmon lips upturned in a pleased smirk.   
  
"Apparently not." He responded, returning the sneer. He admired her wit curtly, entranced with everything about her. Her imperfect, sandy and knotted tendrils, her plasma eyes, her shrewd, jokingly impatient temper; even the way her uneasiness seemed to lawfully project upon him. He loved the way she was anything but normal, the way she always seemed so indifferent and thoughtless. She was mediocre and astoundingly incredible all at once, such as a dove. Plain at sight, but emblematically beautiful. She was Hermione Granger.   
  
And within an instant, he had pounced upon her, knocking her to the ground in a romantic fit of giggles, laughing mildly as she embraced his torso from below him. He looked down upon her now comely face, inhaling her unique, pleasant scent, and leaned down to kiss her. As he was but inches away, a stout knock came upon the door. Annoyed, he rolled his eyes, scoffed, and stood, stepping over her just as she too got to her feet. He leapt to the door and opened it.   
  
"I heard a noise." Came the icy voice of Professor Severus Snape. "Just inspecting." He choked as he spotted Draco. Draco saluted him with an upturn of his chin and motioned towards the shaken Hermione.   
  
"I was just showing Granger here a few tips you've taught us. She's irresponsive, unfortunately. If you'll just continue your rounds, I'll have her learned by evening. Good day, Professor." Professor Snape, aloof, raised a dark eyebrow.   
  
"Carry on then, Mr. Malfoy." He hissed hesitantly. As the door shut, Hermione cast her gaze from Draco's very sturdy and serious stare.  
  
"Hermione- I'm sorry- I honestly don't know what came over me."   
  
"No, it's alright." She reassured uneasily, stifling her blush with a swipe of her palm. After a pause in which Draco had taken her hand, she coughed, "Now, where were we?" She twirled her wand between her long, pale and elegant fingers, holding back inconsequential tears. She wasn't quite positive of what came over her in that elongated series of moments. Perhaps it was the grave thought that she'd lose her only true sense of love within weeks, and the days of this amazing romance would end, due to a prideful death. She found no reassurance within her, and the threads of hope that she once dangled upon had broken, and left her falling. She shut her eyes softly, a single, silent tear dancing down her cheek. It swiveled mockingly down her chin, fell, and destroyed itself upon the algid stone floor. She sniffed and repeated, "Where were we?"  
  
For the next few, rather long hours, the two practiced less-than-diligently, until Draco had mastered the art of avoiding the imperius curse. Hermione had done a curse that was similar, yet milder, so as not to practice the true Imperius. Psychologically, Draco was sure he could avoid it. Hermione had not only instructed him on ignoring it physically, but emotionally as well.   
  
As it was almost nine-thirty, both felt it moral to depart and head back up to their dormitories. They strode wordlessly next to each other for a while, speaking sparsely. The silence was somehow more comforting than any whisper, or any material condolence. It was as if being in his presence was the only thing she'd need to keep her alive.   
  
When it came time to go their separate ways, they turned to each other. In a seemingly perpetual moment, Draco embraced her, every word he'd ever told her swimming through her brain like driftwood. She shut her eyes and let herself be enclosed in his endless warmth, and for once was content.  
  
"You'll stay with me forever, won't you?" She said softly after a pause. He pulled from her and gave her an extremely curious glance.   
  
"Do you see that necklace?" He questioned, taking the silver chain gently in his hand. "It represents eternity. I never want you to take that necklace off. Not ever. And always recall when you see it that no matter the circumstance, I'll always be with you. This stands for the infinity of my love, do you understand me?" He slowly put his wand to the chain and muttered something. "Now the clasp is gone. There is not a chance you can lose it now. Much like the way you won't ever lose my care. Listen to me, Hermione." She smiled meekly and brushed a lock of his hair from his eyes with her knuckle.   
  
Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were infinite.  
***   
  
Rain trickled down the window coldly in the Gryffindor girls' dormitories. It was solemn, yet beautiful outside. The weather was quite unexpected for the last week of school. The allegory of the rain rather frightened Hermione, yet she wasn't truly sure why. She sat, staring out the nearly opaque window for an hour, blinded and entranced by the enormous amount of rain that tumbled down upon the castle. Though the roof was nearly five floors above her, she could still hear the immense droplets hitting the stone covering. As she gazed, she noticed a muddle of white nearly crash into the window. She opened it, allowing a burst of moisture to attack her, and let in what appeared to be a drenched owl. Leaving the window ajar, she sat upon her bed and untied the note that was carefully knotted around the beautiful owl's leg.   
  
'Hermione,' It read. 'Meet me by the forbidden forest behind the quidditch stadium at midnight. Tell no one. I'll await your arrival on my feet.  
-Draco.'  
  
She quickly folded the very soaked note in half, amazed that she was able to make out the runny ink upon the page. She quickly glanced at the clock mounted professionally upon the wall. 11:30. That gave her a half of an hour to find him.  
  
Throwing on her thickest cloak and leaving the matted owl upon her four-poster, she ran down into the common room and out the portrait hole.  
  
Thankfully, she noted, she ran into no one on the way out of the castle, making sure she was extremely noiseless. As she stepped into the pouring rain, she drew her hood over her head, and darkly sprinted as fast as possible about the castle.  
  
The grounds were- to put it very bromidely- frightening in the hours of nighttime. Creatures with red eyes seemed to be watching from everywhere, intent on making Hermione very nervous. She could never see the body behind the fiery pupils, but she was almost positive that the sight would not be pleasant. She embraced herself and continued to dash through the thick darkness of the evening.   
  
When finally she found herself by her destination, she saw no sight of Draco. It took her a moment until she pulled out her wand and lit it.   
  
It was then she took note of Draco Malfoy. Shivering violently, chrome hair plastered to his very pale forehead, he stood, tucked in-between his two palms a midnight rose. She put a hand to her lips as he stepped forward. "Hermione-" He started, his silver eyes glittering sharply in intense beauty. "Hermione Granger, my only-" He paused and noted her face.  
  
"Draco I-" she drew herself closer to him, determined to find words. He hushed her and handed her the black rose. Everything seemed perfect, and Draco's story of the Potters was now swirling through Hermione's mind. She opened her mouth to respond to his extraordinary kindness, yet could not find any speech from within her.   
  
Before either knew what was coming, Draco knelt upon his knee, drenched in the sheets of rain, and glanced up at her. "I know I've never said the right thing at the right time, and have basically mauled you royally in the last few years-" Hermione asphyxiated a weak laugh. "But you're like nothing else in the world to me. You've saved me more times than I can count on two hands, and for that I owe you so much." At this she meekly shook her head. He continued, ignoring this. "I know that I'm certainly not everything someone would hope for, and that I may not be worth all this trouble with Voldemort. But what I do know is, I've met a brilliantly astounding witch, and I now know that there's something about her that seduces me so plainly that it's hard to breathe. I know that I love her unlike anything, and that this may be the first and only time I'll ever feel anything of the sort. People promised me I'd be cruel. Hell, it's embedded in my name. But as you once asked me, am I the mysterious and true constellation of stars, or the man of infernal devastation? I choose the stars." He paused and took her hand. "I've got no ring, no fancy gift to give you, but-"  
  
"There's nothing I could care less about!" Hermione cried suddenly, finally finding something to say. A thin, soft smile formed on Draco's lips.  
  
"Then Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"  
*** 


	17. Fortitude From Empowerment

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Seventeen: Fortitude From Empowerment  
  
His face was dimly lit underneath the moonlight. He shivered violently as if ill, and clutched the rose to his chest, breathing heavily. Silence penetrated the thick darkness as Hermione put a palm to her forehead, thoughts rapidly flying through her mind. Draco remained solemn, his painfully emotional expression illuminated from the moon beams that shone from above the Forbidden Forest. Hermione stifled her breath now, biting her lip as she exclaimed in a nearly inaudible whisper,  
  
"Yes." Draco's face still remained grim as Hermione ran to him and embraced him. He encircled her in the deep entwine, as tears began to fall quietly from her chin and onto the already very damp forest floor. She smiled up at him after a moment, and repeated, "Yes," more firmly this time.   
  
"Then you must listen to me." He began after an elongated pause. "Tomorrow is the deadline: Voldemort instructed me to bring your corpse to him as proof of my crime. I'm apprehensive though- I figured he'd be able to sense it, but..." He trailed off, glancing at Hermione's fretful expression. "Don't you worry, I've got a plan."  
***  
She brushed a damp lock from her forehead as she awoke, not bothering to glance around. Her head was rest upon something rather lumpy. She rubbed her eyes fiercely, suddenly sitting up and stirring whatever was underneath her.   
  
"What time is it?" Came a groggy voice. Hermione gasped and flung herself around, momentarily letting out a relieved sigh.   
  
"Draco." She acknowledged. She smirked slightly and looked about. She was surrounded by bleachers, and, noting the moist grass below her, she was upon the ground of the quidditch stadium. Mist was bellowing overhead as she looked up at the fresh June's sky, beautiful and periwinkle in the rising sun. "It's lovely, isn't it?" She whispered, slowly running her fingers through Draco's hair, trying to block away the fact that this could be the last puce sky she ever witnessed. He pivoted his head towards her, his breathing asphyxiated in the dense morning's oxygen.   
  
"It's perfect." He mouthed, inaudible. After a pause he exhaled deeply, and, with his palm outstretched, caressed Hermione's pale, sullen face. "I want you to realize something, Hermione. I'm not positive this will make much sense coming from a prat that was once so blinded by power such as me, but this may be the only chance I've got to say anything of the sorts." He stopped for a moment to clear his throat. "I was raised to be stoic. I was taught to be emotionless and smooth. It is in the Malfoy nature to have no feeling, no sense of anything but cruelty. That's just the way it's always been, ever since the beginning of time; since the first Malfoy set his foot upon the earth. I reiterate that the chain of evil was endless, and it was unheard of that the chain be broken. I'd always thought I'd be part of the bromide string of Malfoys, and I was perfectly content with this fact. It excited me that I'd carry the legacy of one of the purest, longest lasting wizarding families of this world upon my shoulders. I wanted to be...bad, to put it simply. I strived for it. I fought for that privilege. But after that night, after you saved me from the impending doom of death, I've doubted all of that." He shut his eyes momentarily.  
  
"I'm- I'm not sure I understand." Hermione coughed.  
  
"You make me want to be a better person, no matter who my family or what my fate is." She glanced up at him, her chocolate eyes gleaming with gratitude.  
  
"Do you mean that?" He weakly smiled, then nodded.  
  
"As I've never meant anything before."  
***   
A lock of pale hair fell down her cheeks as she entered the Gryffindor common room, her expression promising anything but fortitude. Looking sparsely about, printing the image thoughtfully into her memory, she stared at the maroon emblazoned area, bustling with bromide students. A grin etched at her lips for a moment, when she retained times where she'd sat with Ron and Harry on the couch and conversed about sorcerer's stones, or polyjuice potions, or Sirius Black, or the third task, or finding a date for the Yule ball. Her gin widened as she thought of the ball. It was too bad it was only held during triwizard tournaments. It was a lovely tradition.   
  
She halted her remembrances after a while, and began to attempt to locate her target. She took a second to search, until she spotted the nervous citrus-haired boy on the opposing end of the common room. She inhaled, her breath faltering, and made her way towards him.   
  
His eyes focused downward as she approached him. The facade that he wore; the mask of enmity, it had been placed upon him and guilt was beginning to leak into Hermione's conscience. He exhaled and turned his fiery head away from her gaze. "Ron," She started after a moment. His response was another meek breath of air. "Ron, we can't go on like this. We can't hide anything from one another anymore; we can't just keep bickering like siblings-"  
  
"Then you shouldn't be with Malfoy." Hermione frowned at this.  
  
"And why not?"  
  
"Because he's a bloody prat, that's why! An egocentric, bloody little prat. That's all he is and it's all he'll ever be, Hermione, don't you understand?" She slowly shut her eyes, bringing a thumb to her right temple and massaging it fiercely.   
  
"You may believe that, Ron, and honestly, it's your decision to think so. But I don't, and for once can you accept that someone I admire may not be someone you very well like? It's a choice I've made. End of story. The End. Let's just drop it; put it all aside for now- put it all aside forever! I need you as my friend again." To Hermione's surprise, Ron scoffed.  
  
"You've got everything now that you're with Malfoy. Don't lie." Her mouth was ajar as she gaped at the redhead, wide-eyed in hurt. "You don't need Harry or I anymore. All you need is that ferret with the crunchy blonde hair and the humongous self respect. Tell me something, are ferrets good kissers? Because you certainly seem to think so." Before it could hit either of them, Hermione brought her palm to Ron's face, leaving behind a fresh, incinerated hand-print upon his skin. He stared up at her, suddenly raising his hand to his lips.  
  
"For your information, we have not done anything of the sort yet! I'm waiting to break that bond- and I'm afraid, Ron! Afraid he may not care for me anymore after that! I read that-"  
  
"Hermione...I'm-I'm so sorry." Ron whispered, a sudden tear falling from his cheek. "I'm sorry." Hermione again closed her eyelids. With a steadily increasing movement, she nodded.   
  
"I just want this to be over. The bond, everything."  
  
"What bond is this?" She immediately locked vision with Ron's, her expression suddenly morphing into that of shock.  
  
Oh that's right, she hadn't told him yet.  
***  
"So you and Malfoy are-" Hermione nodded, breathing heavily. "You're bound? I've heard about that from my dad." Shifting in a chair closer to Ron's, she said softly,  
  
"And I'm frightened that's the only reason he admires me." Ron's jaw dropped swiftly, his eyes widening.   
  
"He wouldn't need a bond to admire you. He wouldn't need anything at all." Her cheeks elevated into a weak smile.  
  
"Thanks, Ron." He stood, she mimicking this. They stepped sullenly and silently away from the wooden table, and within a moment, Hermione found herself embracing her friend so tightly it was hard to breath. Or perhaps that was from the knot that seemed to have lodged itself in her throat. "I'll never forget you." She whispered to herself.  
***   
Hermione focused her gaze upon the extravagant wooden table as she thoughtfully chewed her last Hogwarts supper. She tried to ignore the fact that her lips were oscillating in a sheepish frenzy, making her clumsily drip some pumpkin juice down her front. Sighing, she held her breath as Ron took her hand beneath the table and smiled. Meekly returning this, she continued to lethargically swallow the warm meal, hardly bothering to notice it's homely tastes. After a moment of pondering curtly, she ran a hand through her hair and drew her palm back from Ron's. Taking a second to inhale, she quickly looked up with Draco, and their glances locked. Hermione nodded as Draco bobbed his head and stood. Following, she bid a good night to both Harry and Ron, not allowing them to notice a small, alien tear fall from the corner of her eye onto the cold stone floor.  
  
She reached the exit before Draco. Standing silently for a moment, trying to hold back her sadness, she swallowed fiercely and grabbed at the silver necklace that had fallen across her chest. Embracing it in her palm, she shut her eyes as a weak grin met her lips. Though her confidence was sparse, she had Draco Malfoy.  
  
She was brought to her senses as the great doors opened upon their frames, briefly startling her.   
  
"Are you ready?" Came a shaky voice. Hermione looked up and raised her chin confidently.  
  
"I certainly am." A concerned smile hit Draco's cheeks.  
  
"And you retain the plan?" He asked, shifting his voice to a much softer tone.  
  
"I certainly do." As she concluded speaking, Draco took Hermione's hand and raised it above their heads.   
  
"Then let's do this."  
***  
A small light shone from below the thick trees. From the flickering quality of the dense shining, he guessed that his superior had most probably lit a fire. As he drew nearer, the crackling of cinders assured this, and his thought was confirmed. Hoisting the limp body that hung over his shoulders to fit more comfortably upon him, he dropped dramatically below the immense cluster of leaves. He felt Hermione Granger's lifeless hand smack against his chest as he suddenly swerved about a sharp turn, and finally landed upon the damp forest floor, flooded with undergrowth.   
  
It was difficult to visualize the black-cloaked man sitting motionless by the dim firelight. His attire blended well with the dark surroundings, and the camouflage suited the figure well. Draco made his way over to the hooded man, an unnaturally mirthless smirk emblazoned on his lips.  
  
"I've brought you the girl, sire. Once you talked me out of my sudden, non-sensible change of heart, I realized how perfectly simple it was to kill her." Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed as Draco Malfoy spoke.  
  
"Excellent." He hissed, his voice more snake-like then Draco had ever heard before. "And may I ask, how did you...trick...the girl?" Two crimson eyes suddenly shone from beneath the hood, then disappeared in a quick flash.   
  
"What do you mean, my Lord?"  
  
"What I mean, Mr. Malfoy, is how did you make the girl think that you truly loved her?" Draco swallowed, deeply wanting to take Hermione's body off of his back. When Draco did not respond, Voldemort snapped, "In the darkness, it's hard to see the girl. Bring her forth to me!" Biting his lip, the silver haired boy stepped forward, bringing his gaze downward. The hooded man, however, kept his fiery stare on the limp girl. "Yes." He started wryly. To himself, he muttered, "Very clever, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"What was that?" Draco questioned, his cold gray eyes now alert and upon Voldemort.   
  
"I said, how very clever of you, Draco Malfoy." A headache pounding against his temples, Draco ordered,  
  
"I do not understand."   
  
"I mean to say that your methods are very tactical. Somewhat frivolous, but nevertheless tactical. I see you used Cruciatus? I can tell...her fists are curled in raw pain, that is obvious." Voldemort paced slowly around Draco, inspecting he and Hermione. "Amazing how lifelike one can be in death. It's a quality that almost always astounds me." Disgusted with Voldemort's facade of evil and plain ignorance, Draco coughed,  
  
"It seems that you have approved of this, then." Voldemort pulled down his hood, and a broad smirk suddenly smashed upon his lips. Draco inhaled shakily as he noticed a large scar stretched across the dark lord's face, and in wonderment asked, "Where did you get that?" Voldemort's head violently pivoted to stare at the boy. Putting a finger to it, he whispered evilly,  
  
"That is none of your business, boy. Throw that body upon the ground, now, for you are to be rewarded." Draco slowly nodded, but couldn't help but notice that the scar seemed to be growing larger with it's owner's touch. He shook his head to clear the thoughts, his heart pounding fiercely. He carefully knelt down and placed Hermione's weak body against a rotting stump, his expression twisting into one of determination. Standing again, he made his way over to the dark lord. "I am old, Draco Malfoy." He began after a long, uncomfortable pause. "I may not look it, but I am beginning to feel it everywhere. In my bones, in my blood, in my flesh; even in my thoughts. I feel as if I may not last very much longer." Trying to looked at least slightly concerned, Draco pouted. "But there is hope, I'll have you realize." As if wanting to continue, but not able, Tom Marvalo Riddle opened his mouth to speak, but no words escaped. Before anything else could be said, a loud stirring came from behind the fire, somewhere not far into the darkness. "Who's there?" Voldemort demanded. And then, dirty yet resolute, into the ring of light stepped Hermione Granger.  
  
"Unlucky for you, my lord, Draco and I had a plan. And it seems a very good one, at that. You truly thought I had died, didn't you? And I thought you were supposed to be all knowing." She barked menacingly. Voldemort rolled his great scarlet eyes.   
  
"Oh, no! Little Mudblood's back from the dead! I've predicted wrong! Whatever will I do?" He shrieked sarcastically. "Unfortunately for you, you silly little no-blood, I've known from the start that you were alive. I've seen better actresses on the bottom of my shoe." He laughed without levity. "So come, come off your feet and try and defeat Lord Voldemort. For that has been your plan all along, hasn't it? To kill me, and emerge triumphant? Go ahead, try it." He stood, his legs and arms spread widely, exposing his chest as if gesturing them to attack him. Both Draco and Hermione stood soundlessly, staring at Voldemort. "Must I be the one to initiate this?" He questioned after a moment. "Well, very well, if I must." He quickly drew out his wand. "According to your father, Mr. Malfoy, I hear that you're very bad at avoiding the Imperius curse. Let's try this, shall we?" He flicked his wand outward at Draco, and before the boy had a chance to dart away, he had shouted the curse.  
  
"Bring your wand forth. Kill the girl. Kill Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy." A small voice in the back of Draco's mind demanded. He slowly reached into his robes, his fingers grasping around the thin, feeble object of so much consideration. As he aimed it at Hermione, he heard the distant cackle of Lord Voldemort, and the cry from the girl of,  
  
"No, Draco! You can fight this!" And then the wand fell from his hand onto the ground.  
  
"What's this?" Asked Riddle after a brief second. "I see you've been trained well, Draco. Very well, we'll find some other way of doing this. I want to watch the muggle die a slow, painful death, and then I'll have my fun with you. I'll tell your fiancè that you met with some unfortunate accident." He clicked his tongue and sneered. "Here goes." He pointed his wand at the boy once more and shouted "Imperio!" Afraid of what might happen, Hermione retaliated.   
  
"Expelliarmus!" She shouted, watching as Voldemort was thrown backwards. She caught his wand in one hand and scoffed at him.  
  
"You don't think it will be that easy, do you? Perhaps I don't have my wand, but I still have my powers. In fact, look!" He stuck out a long finger at her, whispering "Crucio." She immediately crumpled, the pain too great to even cry out. As she wriggled, Voldemort chuckled, "I know what I'm doing, mudblood. I've taught myself how to do the unforgivable curses without my wand. Call it talent?" Draco suddenly shouted out, startling Riddle and breaking the curse off.  
  
"Over here, you great oaf!" Voldemort swooshed around to face Draco, whom had drawn out his wand towards the Dark Lord. "Stupify!" He shouted, trying hard not to break his concentration. The spell hit Voldemort with a clap, and he fell to the ground. After a second Hermione stood, her wand outstretched in her far-from-steady hand, breathing audibly. "What shall we do with him?" Draco asked roughly as they both stared over him. Just as Hermione was beginning to weakly shrug, Riddle sharply sat up.   
  
"Crucio!" He yelled a second time at Hermione, whom again toppled over. Standing, he narrowed his eyes at Draco. "I've got a bone to pick with you, Mr. Malfoy. You do not proudly hold that mark on your arm as any good death eater should do. You do not use that mark as it was meant to be used. I can see you aren't truly grateful for this position. You're letting a mudblood get in your way of greatness? You could be so grand. So powerful. Your father and I had such wonderfully perfect plans for you. It disappoints me to see you this way. Becoming sightless due to a...not rather prepossessing creature. And no one disappoints Lord Voldemort."  
  
"You are not a Lord, nor anything near to." Draco spat, his fist clenching tightly about his cherry wand. "And to all of those whom you have hypnotized, including Blaise, you won't ever be a Lord again, once Hermione and I kill you." He snarled. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, a deep smirk beginning to itch at his cheeks.   
  
"Then perhaps I'll kill your girlfriend instead. I want you to watch her wither and fall. Just as I know you wish for somewhere deep inside of you." His smirk broadened, and he defiantly cut the curse off. Hermione sat panting on the ground for a moment, then whispered,  
  
"Who are you, anyway? Or should I ask, 'what' are you?" Not even pivoting to respond, Voldemort snapped,  
  
"Shut your mouth girl! You're in no position to be asking me these things." He quickly put a palm to his forehead. "Draco Malfoy, would you like me to show you? Do you want to see before you die?" Suddenly drawing out his wand, Riddle screeched, "Imperio!" Toward the boy.  
  
"You can fight it, Draco!" Came the distant voice of Hermione. Draco reached toward her, but could not ignore the second voice inside of his skull that urged him to shut his great gray eyes. Struggling for freedom, he obeyed.   
  
A periwinkle light shot forth from somewhere hence, and the sixteen-year old plummeted. Where he was, where he was going, what had happened, he could not comprehend. All he knew was that air was rushing swiftly through his silver-blonde hair, turning it untidy and knotted. The sensation felt almost surreal, as if he were falling through light snow, holding carefully onto one of the unique snowflakes. He opened his eyes instantaneously as he hit the ground.   
  
Dusting himself off, he stared around at an extremely familiar scene. Where he had noticed it before, he was unaware, but something about the vast field of daisies before him gave him the strongest sense of dejavou. Below him, a long, quickly flowing stream rushed steadily downward, the current slowly dragging his balance toward the distant valley. Wind blew softly from the east, ruffling his already air-tampered locks. As it played about his cheeks, he looked upward, not forgetting about his quest, but wondering how he had gotten there. And there, on the opposing end of the field, knelt upon the dirt, was a young woman, adorned in daisies and humming audibly. The soft melody echoed, almost as if not real, throughout the large plateau and into Draco's perked ears.   
  
He made his way towards the woman. As he approached her, she suddenly looked upward. "Draco," She began, standing. "This is only a figment of thought, do not grow afraid." Draco bent to take Hermione Granger's hand. As he reached for it, he found that his own palm went right through hers. "This is a corroborate. It will show you the truth; the secret to success."  
  
"How?" He asked softly. Hermione's faint image flickered.   
  
"Voldemort's spell's are slowly torturing me, Draco. The more my phantasm falters, the worse it is growing. You must hurry." Draco grimly nodded and opened his dry lips to speak, when it suddenly occurred to him when he had seen this before.   
  
"I-I've been here. The day I became a death eater." Hermione shut her eyes and inclined her head downward.   
  
"It's your destiny to fight him. I-" She was cut off by another random fading of her simulation. "I will show you how." Impetuously, her figure became solid and she leaned over to Draco. "Remember," she began, grinning extremely slightly, "this isn't real. It's only a figment of thought." And with this, she put her lips to his.  
  
He was dropping again, and this time onto the forest floor. He stood, brushed himself off, and looked about. Before him, two more dim figures stood, one Hermione and the other...he. He took a step closer to speculate, and realized that this was a glimpse of what could potentially occur. Focusing so as not to miss one detail, he reached into his robes and drew his wand outward. Whispering, "Lumos," to it, he stared.  
  
"Imperio!" another figure shouted from behind the real Draco. Both the real and the false whizzed around to face a fading Voldemort, whom had his finger pointed at false Draco. The withering boy turned to him and also drew forth his wand, thrusting it at Voldemort and shouting,  
  
"Imperio!" at him. Colors swirled. The picture broke into a thousand pieces as glass hitting pavement, then died. Draco was back in reality, and he immediately found himself screaming,   
  
"Imperio!" at the true Voldemort with an outstretched wand. A burst of piercing bright light flew across the scene, blowing out the fire suddenly. A bubble formed around Voldemort, whom was screaming so loudly that both Draco and Hermione had to cover their ears. There was a loud explosion, a spray of tinted flames, and then...he was gone. Lord Voldemort was defeated.  
  
The pair, whom had been knocked to the ground by the eruption, both slowly stood and looked at each other.  
  
"Is...is he gone?" Hermione sputtered. "I- I don't understand, Draco, you suddenly just disappeared, and Voldemort was laughing, then he cast that awful curse on me again, and I- Oh, God, I thought I was going to die." She ran and threw herself into his arms. "Even worse, I thought you had perished by his hand." Draco hushed her and ran a trembling hand through her hair.   
  
"He was weakening. He told me this. We caught him at his most feeble moment. I don't know what happened, or how, but Voldemort is gone. You don't have to worry."  
  
"I'm not sure. I still have a most foreboding feeling..." As Hermione trailed off, both lovers were startled by a sudden, mocking voice.  
  
"Draco Malfoy, tsk, tsk. Haven't you learned anything from me?"  
***  
A/N: I am so very sorry for the couple weeks it took to get this chapter out. I have been hard at work on it, since it was a very action-packed chapter. Bound will be eighteen chapters in all (*sniff, the last chapter will be out soon!) plus an epilogue. I would like to thank every reviewer and reader for their support, and I will do the best I can to put the next chapter up by the end of march. Thanks one more time!  
-Angel Of Music 


	18. Every Rose Has it's Thorns

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Chapter Eighteen: Every Rose Has it's Thorns  
  
Even in the deep darkness, the auburn hair that framed the speaker's face was a dead giveaway. Blaise Zambini stood before the partners, her hands upon her hips, tapping her foot incorrigibly. She stared, smirking silently for a moment, until she drawled, "Years of hard work and preservation of his soul, and Voldemort perished under the influence of a mudblood and a spoiled git. Congratulations." Her smile broadened as the two gazed menacingly at her. After a pause, Draco sputtered,  
  
"Don't mock us, you poor excuse for a Zambini." The almond-locked girl raised an eyebrow.   
  
"You've killed the greatest Lord our world has even been introduced to, and still you haven't found this out?" She bit her lip.  
  
"What in heavens name are you talking about?" Draco snarled.   
  
"It just goes to show that the world is a rather ironic place, wouldn't you say?" She hummed softly for a moment, her moist eyes glistening under the moonlight. The tent of trees above sheltered her expression, casting shadows over her. She inhaled audibly, and running a hand through her hair whispered, "you are both so naive. If you hadn't been, maybe you'd have figured out the story by now." She sighed softly, then began.  
  
"Sixteen years ago, only a single year before the dark lord fell, Lord Voldemort conceived a child with a beautiful temptress named Sara. She gave birth to this daughter, and as it had it, Voldemort wished to raise this girl to be his heir. When Sara would not allow it, he brutally tortured and murdered her." She paused and smirked as Hermione winced. "The dark lord made for a back up plan, in the event of his death. He hired a small family of death eaters entitled the Zambini's to take care of his daughter, and when he weakened when the girl was one, she stayed with this family. They immediately left the dark forces, and as the girl grew, they informed her of her true identity. Of course, when Voldemort rose again, he wanted the Zambinis dead. And this he did." She trailed off for a moment in thought.  
  
"Haven't you ever wondered why my parents were killed, and not I? It is because I am that child, and my father has raised me to be strong. You may have killed him, but his heir will never falter. If you want to save this stupid, ironic little place we call the world, you're going to have to get through me." The woods were silent. Draco Malfoy gaped, and Hermione rocked visibly.  
  
"You?" He asked shakily, putting a palm to his forehead. "But all these years we've been friends..."  
  
"Yes. You know, I truly did fall for you, Malfoy. You snared me into your little trap at such an early age. And here I've been trying to chase after you, to let you share my feelings, and you haven't seen it. My father chose you to wed me because he thought you were fit for the job. But he was right. You've got no dark pride. That Malfoy is gone with the rest of his traits. He has gone with the Malfoy that used to despise mudbloods, to follow in the footsteps of his father, used to sneer when he heard Voldemort's name. Yes, he perished beside my faith. Isn't that...too bad." She blew at a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. "Any last questions, lovers, before I mercilessly kill you?"  
  
"I just don't believe that you're the heir to Lord Voldemort." Draco whispered breathlessly.   
  
"If you want proof, I'll show you." She thrust out her finger thoughtfully into the algid night air and inhaled shakily. A name suddenly appeared, surrounded by a faint glowing light. It stated, 'Blaise Delvin-Yechaws Riddle.' Blaise tilted her head as if to get a closer look at the name. "Delvin after my mother, Yechaws after my grandmother." She quickly drew her finger up once more and the letters rearranged themselves to state, 'I've always been Riddle's child.' Draco's jaw dropped, though as he realized this, he shut it with a snap.   
  
"V-very well." He stuttered. "If you're so clever, then perhaps you can explain why Riddle had such a large scar across his cheek." Blaise's scarlet eyes flickered.   
  
"I'm going to murder you anyway, so I might as well tell you this." She reassured. "That night that my father was weakened by that fiend Harry Potter, he incinerated a lightning scar upon Potter's forehead. Well, what most don't understand is that cursed scars always have a brother wound. When Riddle fell after Potter's display of immortality, the scar was left on his face. It was small at first, but as he grew weaker, the blemish grew larger. He usually covers the wound with magic, but recently it's gotten so large he hasn't been able to do much about it. He was growing old and very tired, as it took most of his energy to transfer his powers into me." Hermione looked taken aback and began to visibly oscillate. "It would be a feat to see that when Voldemort was destroyed, Potter's scar grew smaller. It's too bad that it won't be something either of you will witness. With my power, Potter will be dead by Tuesday." Hermione began to draw towards Blaise at this, but Draco tugged to hold her back from throwing a punch at the brunette.   
  
"You're sick, Zambini." She hissed. Scoffing, Blaise corrected thoughtlessly,  
  
"Riddle." Narrowing her eyes, Hermione flashed soundless hatred towards Blaise. "You know, Malfoy," She began after the short silence. "After I saved your life, this is how you repaid me." Draco raised his eyebrows questioningly. She let out an exasperated exhale, then began, "My father was going to kill you after that little stunt you pulled with the muggle, you know. But I told him to spare you. I should have allowed him to kill you all along, because then perhaps he'd still have life in him yet. I will avenge my father, you know."  
  
"So you were the one that proposed a wedding vow." Draco figured.   
  
"Very good, Malfoy. It's taken you this long. Unfortunately, this will be the end of everything. You can forget about all I said earlier- your whole existence was a facade of lies. I don't know the real Draco Malfoy." She retorted coldly.   
  
"As if I know the real Blaise." Draco argued, pulling out his wand. Blaise cocked her head to the right, allowing her chocolate tendrels to dance across her back in an untidy array.   
  
"She's dead now." The witch responded softly, and began to slowly turn around. "Unfortunately, one part of her will always linger." She whisked around once more and brushed a palm over the boy's tender cheek. "Years and years of hopeless admiration can never pay off, but I still haven't learned my lesson." Beginning to bring her lips to his, she commenced to kiss him gently, massaging her hands through his knotted locks. Lethargically putting a palm upon his chest, she brought her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Crucio." He fell instantly, and she heaved a smirk onto her lips. "I'll let him stay for a while, Granger, you and I have some knots to work through." Swallowing, Hermione narrowed her eyes.  
  
"Take the curse off him." She whispered threateningly. "Now."  
  
"Don't be so feisty, we've got a long way to go. Believe me, dear, I would never allow Draco to die so easily after what he did to my father. Neither of you will be given such an honor as to perish as so." She furrowed a frown.   
  
"Fine." Hermione said after a second of thought. "He would be too strong, anyway, to die under a curse so feeble as yours."   
  
"Feeble?" Blaise questioned thoughtlessly. A broad sneer twitched across her face, and she began to laugh. "No. I believe you've got your facts mixed up. We'll see whose curses are feeble."  
  
Hermione shut her eyes, trying to block out the muffled cries of Draco. She had to say something, anything, to make Blaise halt. "Don't be so certain, Riddle." She huffed, emphasizing Blaise's surname as a final refuge. "Draco's curse did kill your father."   
  
"There are reasons for that, mudblood!" Blaise cried, absent-mindedly tearing the curse from Draco. "When a wizard is weakening, as my father was, and two unforgivable curses clash, it creates what Voldemort used to call the 'bond of righteousness.' Only a caster with good intent may provoke this bond, and it is a rare feat. My father feared it would be the end of him. Fortunately, since he also believed that he was one of the only that knew of it, he kept the idea well hidden. But my father is too powerful for his own good, and that too led to his downfall. He had the ability to place images in the minds of his greatest enemies; the images of his own thoughts. As he cast the cruciatus curse upon Malfoy here, he worried that the boy would find out of his weakness. And this rather stupid mistake led to his death. The bond of righteousness overtook him, and since his flesh, his bones, and his mind were made of nothing but evil, the caring diminished him." She paused, mingling in her own thought for a moment. "It's a good thing I'm not weakening, eh?" She chuckled.   
  
"How do you know all of this?" Hermione questioned, rocking slightly upon her heels.  
  
"Easily, Granger, and I'd be most happy to share it with you. You see, at the time that all of this was occurring, Voldemort was placing his powers into me. He was dying, and I was therefore obtaining what he was losing. At the moment that Draco cast that final curse, his thoughts entered my mind. I knew what had happened, and I knew what would occur. And I also know that both of you will die today." Though frightened, Hermione made her way slowly over to Draco, kneeling beside him.   
  
"I can't wait to prove you wrong." She spat, running a blanched palm through a trembling Draco's moist hair. She took his hand and helped him to his feet. "You're alright?" She asked him. Nodding, he strung his fingers through hers.  
  
"Blaise," He began, wiping the perspiration from his brow. "You're a pretentious little prat, and I fear Hermione and I are going to kill you first." Blaise laughed mirthlessly.  
  
"Isn't that a funny little thing?" She began. Continuing to cackle, she shouted "Crucio!" At Hermione. "It's wonderful not needing a wand for the unforgivable curses. And seeing as that mudblood over there still has my wand, it's even more useful." She told Draco. The boy shook his head, worry spreading across his expression. Blaise dawdled over to the convulsing girl, and bent next to her. Snatching Hermione's wand from her robes, the brunette smiled and whispered, "Accio wand." And, throwing the cherry wand back upon the girl's chest, she sneered, "You'll need this." With this, she cut the curse off. Hermione, stuttering to her feet, stared gruffly ahead of her into the misty light of the forest. Though blindingly dark, the trio could still make out Blaise's wand hurtling towards them from the distance. She smiled curtly as she caught it, running a steady palm through her thick tendreled hair. "How convenient." She put mockingly, testing it's reliability by incinerating a nearby shrub. Hermione menacingly inhaled, her expression one of absolute determination. "You must really despise me," Blaise began coldly, chuckling a bit to herself. Draco, at this, nodded vigorously.   
  
"You're damn right I do." He retorted. She rolled her eyes in mock giddiness, giggling and batting her long, midnight eyelashes.   
  
"Oh...my...god, Malfoy!" She began, doing a rather exaggerated impression of Hermione. "Like, um, do you think that Blaise girl actually cares?!" She continued, the teasing, false voice of the sandy-haired girl trailing off near the last few words and being replaced with Blaise's true, mysteriously seductive voice. "Seriously, Malfoy, you must have learned by now that your comments hardly matter to me anymore. Prepare for a pretty nasty death." She aimed her wand at him and shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" Draco shot into the air like a cannonball, Blaise sniggering as she made him encircle her high in the air. He flailed helplessly, yelling,  
  
"Hermione!" The girl was in a near trance. But as she heard her love's desperate voice, she drew herself out of it and thrust her wand at the auburn-haired girl.   
  
"Accio!" She screamed, saying the first spell that came into her mind. For a moment, it seemed nothing had occurred. Blaise widened her eyes, bemused, and shook her head at Hermione.   
  
"Good one, Granger." She jeered, breathlessly chortling. But before her words could fully conclude, an ember from the fire flew forth and smashed at high speed into the back of Blaise's head, setting her hair aflame.   
  
Draco plummeted. She immediately cut the curse off, screeching so loudly that Hermione had to cover her ears. The flames were intense, and the blanket began to incinerate the back of her scalp. Yelping audibly, she squealed between breaths, "Hydroreducto!"   
  
Suddenly, from the looming sky above, two pale clouds formed. And, with a curt smash of thunder, rain began to pour upon her sizzling skin. She cried out breathlessly, hissing as the element hit the flames and killed them. For a moment, she ran a palm over her tender flesh, mumbling something like, "Mudbloods..." After the awe-stuck silence where the lovers simply stared, Blaise flicked her head toward them and whispered, "What in the name of Voldemort is wrong with you, you little no-blood sack of slime?" Hermione remained rigid, not daring to respond. Blaise, after noting this, repeated, more loudly this time, "I asked what in fucking Voldemort's name is your goddamn problem!?" Looking taken aback, the girl muttered,  
  
"Language, Riddle." The rather ominous, smoked-scalped woman responded with a sarcastic exhale.   
  
"Unfortunately for that, Granger, I think your little partner here is going to pay. Dearly." A smirk suddenly tickled her lips as she slowly drew forth her wand. "I think I'll use this for once." She giggled mockingly, her eyes narrowed.   
  
"You can't do this, Blaise." Draco retorted suddenly, his lips slightly ajar.   
  
"And why is that, Malfoy? I never thought you were afraid of death. Thought you welcomed it with open arms, so to speak. What happened to those days? Hmm? Lost with all of your other sense? Lost with the pureblood Draco?"   
  
"Eat dung." Hermione responded shortly.   
  
"I would, Granger, but I've got other things on my mind." And then, as if in a flash of lightning, she had shouted, "Avada Kedavra." At the blonde.  
  
"No!" Hermione shouted, her heart suddenly taking a seemingly flying leap from within her chest. She flung herself at the place where Draco had been standing, tears suddenly beginning to form in her widened pupils. "How could you?" She screeched absent mindedly at Blaise, gasping for air between sobs. "How could you?" She made her way over to the precise place of Draco's shot, but- "He's vanished..." The sandy-haired girl proposed, her suddenly prepossessing tendrels dancing over her cheeks. "But where...?" The answer came almost immediately.   
  
"Looking for something?" Both girls were suddenly aware of the familiar voice from behind them. There the boy stood, grinning ever so slightly as he twirled Blaise's wand between his long, blanched fingers. "Or haven't you noticed it was missing." The brunette let out a stifled, bothered breath of air.   
  
"Nice, Malfoy. I see you've used that skill my father gave you wisely. Now give that here." Hermione crept next to Draco after a second, and embracing him vehemently, shared a few feelings of relief. He weakly smiled at this, and took her hand.  
  
"No, I really don't think that would be a great idea. I'll keep it for now, thanks." He pointed coolly. As if not realizing that this was an option, she argued,  
  
"I don't care, give it." Both Hermione and Draco began to fervently shake their heads in disagreement. Blaise, whom was quite fed up with the weak fight, charged at them. "I've had it about up to here with your little alliance, Slytherins are supposed to be like me!" She shouted, tugging at Draco's robes for her wand. "I've been wanting to say it all along: I think you've lost your mind! Look, Draco, you could be here with me- the husband of Voldemort's heir...we could have had children to pass the legacy forth! Look where all of this doubt has brought you! To the pits of hell! Holding the hand of a mudblood!" Breathing heavily, she took a step back in order to let her soliloquy sink in to the boy's mind. After what seemed like a minute of depthly thought, the boy released Hermione's palm. Draco paused, seemingly still contemplating, and stood just before Blaise.  
  
"You are most certainly correct about one thing." He nodded, taking in the expression of victory upon the auburn-locked girl's face. "And that one thing is laudable and most certainly considerable; I COULD have been there with you. But instead, I am here with Hermione, and this is how I damn well like it, even if you are the contemptuous 'heir of Voldemort.'" He concluded, his dispatch of her monologue so prevalent it was palpable. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly and took another step towards him so that their bodies were nearly touching. Reaching her hand forth, she brought it to his chest and began to explore it with the tips of her fingers, rubbing gently. And then, as soon as it begun, it seemed to have ended, and she was radically sneering. Between her fingers was her wand.   
  
"You're easily seduced, Draco. Perhaps too easily." She grinned and licked her lips. It looked odd, as her locks were crumpled in all directions and the back of her scalp was hairless. The boy frowned. It was sudden, but Blaise began to stick her wand out at Draco and murmur strange things. Hermione had instantaneously had enough of it. She reached into her robes to grab her own scepter, but it was not there. Instead, what emerged from the loose-fitting clothes was an enormous, glittering ruby sword, with small letters engraved in the steel stating, 'Godric Gryffindor.' Hermione gasped, but did not let it fall.  
  
"The sword of Gryffindor..." She coughed, rectifying the perplexed expressions on both Blaise's and Draco's face. "I've read about it before- never actually seen it...it's beautiful...only a true Gryffindor." But as she had taken the time to mutter, Blaise had also taken the time to draw forth her wand and point it at the girl.  
  
"Hermione!" Draco called, and the girl looked up. Just in time, actually. The woman had approached her ferociously, obviously not keen on the fact that Hermione now had a sword to battle with. Hermione pivoted her head up and quickly jumped to the side as Blaise threw a leg-locking curse at her. Dodging it, she exhaled,   
  
"Draco, I haven't any clue of how to use this!" He dashed before her and took the epée from her, saying nothing but,  
  
"Run, Hermione." But Hermione did not run. She stayed rigid to watch as her love charged forth at Blaise, whom had just transfigured a nearby twig into another cutlass.   
  
The battle was incredible. It was unlike anything the girl had ever seen. Both Slytherins fought well together, thrusting and blocking when necessary. Blaise lunged at Draco, and yelling, "just go, Hermione!" he shielded himself. The perspiration was becoming visible on both opponents brows, and as they quarreled seamlessly, they screamed cusses at one another. Hermione, suddenly unable to bear it anymore, reached for her wand and shouted a curse at Blaise.  
  
It hit her. She curled upon the ground in what looked like the Petrificus Totalus curse. Making her way swiftly over to the blonde, she cried, "Draco, how did you learn to fight like that? Both of you!?" Malfoy shook his head, visible droplets of sweat falling from his forehead.   
  
"I told you our parents used to be acquainted." He mumbled, his shirt sleeve dancing across the perspiration. "They taught us both how to defend ourselves."   
  
"Well I'm proud of you..." She began, clasping her palms around his middle. "Now, what shall we do with her? Bring her to Dumbledore?"   
  
"It's too late for that, mudblood." Blaise's voice sounded. "And it's also quite ironic for both of you that Draco was right. Our parents did teach us how to defend ourselves. And escaping the full body bind was one of their specialties." She sneered. Suddenly morbid, bitter rage flooded the body of the blonde boy.  
  
"I'm ending this once and for all!" He shouted. And with the final conclusion of his statement, before Blaise could retaliate, he had swung the great sword down and thrust it clear through her chest. She stuttered for a moment, apparently losing consciousness. As she began to fall from reality, her fingers grasping death, she muttered her final words,  
  
"I'll always love you, Draco Malfoy." And with this, she fell, her great scarlet eyes fluttering shut. Suddenly, everything had halted. But Hermione's eyes did not fall upon the girl, they landed upon Draco, whom had hunched to the ground, roaring in pain and grasping his right forearm.   
  
"Draco, what's wrong?" There was silence, and the boy looked upward. He flung his wrist out gently to show Hermione. "It's gone-your mark..." She began inaudibly. The blonde nodded and bent towards his love.  
  
"We've done it, Hermione...I-" He leant towards her, his gray eyes bold with passion. Shutting her own lids, she waited, expecting to feel the soft, warm glow of his lips upon hers. But that did not come. Instead, she heard a muffled shout.   
  
She immediately popped her eyes open. What she saw was indescribable. Blaise has sat up in a final attempt at defeat, and had strung the sword through the back of Draco's torso. The girl wheezed, then dropped into death. "Draco, NO!" His fiancè screamed hysterically as he fell backwards. "You can't do this...no," She wept, throwing herself upon him.   
  
"Hermione, I love you." He whimpered, his lips trembling as blood ran down his stomach. Shutting his great chrome eyes, he craned his neck weakly forward and embraced her lips with his. The fiery desire and romance within the kiss was overwhelming, though Hermione did her best to stay held in his arms. They broke apart after a moment, Draco smiling weakly up at his love. "And the bond is broken..." He sighed. "Now I expect repayment for that." The girl exhaled shakily at his comment, and wrapped him further into her caress.   
  
"And I you, Draco Malfoy." He bit his lip, and his eyelids danced downward. After a moment, when all movement seemed to conclude, Draco, the last of the Malfoy heir, lover, son, and man, student, friend, and hero, fell softly to his dissolution. And with a brief, asphyxiated exhale, Hermione allowed her advancing tears to carry his body over the mist, rising through the canopy of trees, and up to his passing.  
  
THE END  
***   
  
A/N: And thus ends my tale, my fellow readers, but I've still got an epilogue. That will be out by latest, Friday. Expect it to be out by tomorrow though. I thank you all for reading and reviewing, you've been wonderfully supportive. Hope you've liked it, and I also hope you look forward to reading the epilogue, and my next new fictions: "Broken" and "Vers Libre." E-mail me for more information if you wish. Thank you once more! .  
-Angel Of Music 


	19. Epilogue

Bound  
By Angel Of Music  
  
Epilogue  
  
Pain. Encompassing the now deft life in a fate of solitude. It was over, and had concluded with triumph, yet somehow, she did not feel triumphant. Everything she'd learned, everything she'd experienced, everything she'd promised: dead. The end had been cinematic, almost, played as if not reality in front of Hermione Granger's pure eyes. Little could she believe that her lover had perished just before her viewing; mocking, decietful. She silently cursed everything in the name of the dark lord, more then she had ever before. She would not allow herself to be strong. She would grieve, and never let the grief become dissolute, for, although this would not have been what the boy would have wanted, she felt it appropriate. After all, it seemed now that she knew nothing but solemn, morbid attitudes.   
  
She sat slouched over, a shaky hand fingering the handle of a goblet that sat before her. Had she the motive to take a swig of pumpkin juice, she would have, but it seemed she had many more things on her mind. She felt eyes on her; eyes from all about the open hall, and instead of greeting the stares, she allowed her head to fall back and focus on the enchanted sky above her. It was so peaceful, so rectifying. Her lips twitched ever so slightly into a greatful smile, but instead the pain that was inside of her burned through, and turned her expression grim. No one fought it. No one really knew even, but they did think well enough to realize that Hermione could not be made more joyous with any number of words, and so they therefore kept silent. Her gaze broke away from the ceiling, and finally landed on the agèd man whom had begun to speak.  
  
"I do not believe, that even if I tried, I could find words for the events that occurred this evening. For these were events of bravery, justice, caring, determination, and righteousness. What's more, they were performed by two of the most disalike people Hogwarts has ever known. One of muggle heritage, one of pure blood. One of Gryffindor, one of Slytherin. One female, one male. One was book-smart, the other informed of the world. But combining their completely different forces made a single, strong bond that has once and for all shown us all that age, blood, race, or gender does not really matter. Can Miss Hermione Granger please rise?" As more eyes darted over the the Gryffindor table, which was not cheering or hooting as it usually would have, Hermione, looking taken aback, got to her feet. "I think I, as well as the rest of the wizarding world, would like to thank you. And thank you deeply. For if it were not for Miss Granger and her companion, Voldemort would still be roaming the earth, free. But, no, they both worked together to defeat him, and his heir." Albus Dumbledore sighed, and fiddled with his ivory beard for a moment.   
  
"I do regret to inform you, however, that Miss Blaise Zambini was that heir. Her heritage does trace back to that of Tom Riddles, and for that, she perished. We will now have a moment of silence for both Blaise and Tom, whose evil deeds brought the world so much deluge, suffering and pain. But, though they were immoral beings, they still were BEINGS, and so therefore I feel it respectful to give them each the bit of respect they deserve." Hogwarts did not seem to like this very much, for a few groans escaped passing students. Especially from the Hufflepuff table. "If you do not feel this appropriate, please do not participate." But they did. They hall was completely silent for a moment, more quiet then anyone had ever heard it. Dumbledore nodded and began again.  
  
"Determination can come in all forms. As most realize, rumors and false facades are created of our fellow students, the Slytherins. Most believe them to be horrid people whom side with the Dark Lord. Well tonight, those people have been proven terribly wrong. The boy whom has been said to be cruel, evil, and sinister, has shown us all that he is nothing to that respect whatsoever. In fact, he himself was the one whom's touch incinerated both Blaise and Voldemort. And though Mister Draco Malfoy has moved on to passing, hopefully somewhere in a better place, where feilds of dasies and strange fantasies take the better of him, I believe he deserves more then a moment of silence. I would like to ask everyone to raise their glasses to Draco Malfoy." Hermione looked upward, her grip suddenly tightening about her goblet. A few students looked skeptically about, obviously doubting whether they should do so. It seemed, although he had killed the Dark Lord, some of them still held certain grudges against him. Then of course, Hermione figured, Harry and Ron would not want to do such a stupid task. Her eyes fell upon them as both Ron and Harry returned the stare, and winking, both held their pewter goblets high in the air. And, following Dumbledores initiation of "To Draco Malfoy!" The rest of the people in the hall threw their glasses into the air, and, with both Harry and Ron included, shouted,  
  
"To Draco Malfoy!" 


	20. Thanks

An informal thanks....  
  
Hi, everyone! I know it's been a while since I've completed Bound, but except for in my profile, I never got to thank my reviewers properly. I would like to take this time to give huge thanks to my readers, especially Claudia Malfoy, heavengurl889, The Ultimate Otaku, Diana, Akira Gown, ForsakenShadow, and athena. Thank you guys (and even the ones I didn't mention) for your supportiveness through this project. I couldn't have done it without you guys.   
  
Once again I share my thanks, and I will most certainly be writing more. I love to write fics, but without my reader's support I'd be scrap. I LOVE YOU ALL!  
  
-Angel Of Music aka Elana 


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